


Captivated

by QueenoftheProcrastination



Series: Tales of the Avvar [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Avvar, Barbarian!Cullen, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Kidnapping, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Revenge, The Great Game, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, barbarian au, wife stealing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheProcrastination/pseuds/QueenoftheProcrastination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lady Elena Trevelyan is kidnapped by a rugged Avvar warrior named Cullen, she must use all her wits and wiles to keep herself safe and return home, a feat which is complicated by the undeniable attraction between herself and her handsome captor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Androktones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androktones/gifts).



> This story is definitely supposed to be like a smutty Highland Romance, so cliches abound, and, given the power dynamics, dubcon (she is consenting, but the situation makes it dicey and I wouldn’t want anyone to read it without warning and then get triggered / otherwise upset).

Lady Elena Trevelyan sighed, and drummed her fingers against the armrest of the carriage as she gazed out the window. Ferelden was boring—nothing but frozen wilderness and dogs as far as the eye could see. She couldn’t wait to be once again in the Free Marches, where people were civilized. 

The journey from Val Royeaux to the port of Highever was always slow, but this time was especially tedious. They had not been able to take their usual route through the North Frostbacks, and instead had to loop around far to the south and come up on the other side of Lake Calenhad.

Suddenly, their carriage came to an abrupt stop; the chilling breeze carried the sound of the horses nickering nervously. Elena leaned out of the window, trying to see what the fuss was about. Much to her annoyance, a large, felled log lay across their path. Her small contingent of guards were already examining it, trying to find the best angle from which to pull it away.

“Great, even more time I’m stuck in this barbaric kingdom,” she grumbled to her nurse, Sister Ellie, as she slid back into her seat, arms crossed over her chest in a pout.

There was a whistling sound, and she felt something ruffle through her hair before a wet gurgling made her snap her head around. A scream tore through her throat at she realized what she was seeing: an arrow stuck out of Ellie’s neck, blood coursing down from the wound. Before she could cry out for her guards, the sound of shouting and the thunder of horse hooves crashed down around her. From the forest surrounding the road a band of Avvar barbarians appeared, weapons held high as they charged her party.

She screamed again, and threw herself at the far door of the carriage. The wood gave under her body and she tumbled out into the road. Scrambling to her feet, Elena ran for the woods as the sound of her father’s men dying bombarded her ears. Before she got ten yards away, a man on a white horse rode front of her, cutting her off from her escape. She wheeled around, blindly running anywhere, anywhere as long as it was  _away_.

He circled her, once, twice, thrice; each time she turned away from him, he was always before her, the steam of his horse’s breath fogging the air around her. She screamed again, and dodged towards the woods. Looking behind her, she saw him leaping from the saddle and giving chase after her, a high laugh echoing through the air around him. She made it to the tree line before he caught her, arms strong as silverite wrapping around and pinning her to his hard body as he wheeled her around. 

Elena screamed while she struggled against the cage of arms. “Let go of me, you brute!”

“By the Mountain Father, woman, quiet or I’ll gag you,” grunted the man behind her as he pinned her tighter to his chest, heaving her up, and making to go back to the road.

In one fluid motion he swung her over his shoulder, affording her a brief view of messy blond curls and then nothing but the warm expanse of his bare back and furs. Around her, she could hear the groan of her guards dying as his men looted their caravan. She pounded her fists against his lower back, letting out another ear-splitting shriek.

“I demand that you unhand me at once! My grandmother is the Duchesse du Claremont and my father is the Bann of Ostwick. You can have as much gold as you want, but just let me go!”

A resounding smack echoed around the camp as his hand came down hard on the curve of her rump, causing her to squeal in surprise.

“I said be quiet,” he ordered, jostling her against his shoulder. “And it’s not gold I’m after, lass.”

She heard the men around them laugh as his words echoed in her head. Did this barbarian think to ravish her?

“Feisty, isn’t she?” A voice to her left called.

“Redheads always are,” rumbled the man holding her, his hand now rubbing soothing circles over her bottom; her face burned red at so intimate a touch, despite its soothing effect.

“You’ll have your hands full, Cullen! Mark my words, a lowlander woman is trouble, a redhead doubly so.”

He— _Cullen?_ —grunted and walked away. A moment later the world spun again and she found herself seated on a horse, skirts rucked up her to thighs. She blushed and tried to tug them lower–it certainly wouldn’t do to let these barbarians see her in a state of undress. Her hands were shaking, and she could see a smudge of blood on her thumb.  _Not mine? No, Sister Ellie’s_ , she though, the image of her nurse springing to mind—how she had looked moments before the arrow shot through her neck. Elena let out a small sob, her hand shaking her earnest now. She was captured by Fereldan barbarians; Maker only knew what would happen to her.

A moment later, a hand caught hers. It was a big hand, calloused and rough, especially in comparison to her own. Elena looked up, finally registering the man who had chased her across the clearing. His clothes left nearly nothing to the imagination. Tight leather trousers hugged his muscular legs, and his chest was bare, save for thick furs that covered his shoulders and slung down over his groin. She tried not to look at his naked skin—the hard muscles that quivered slightly with each breath. Her eyes traveled up further, over the strong cords of his neck to his face.

Maker’s breath. He had the face of a desire demon. Full lips set against a strong jaw and cleft chin, high cheekbones framed by stubble and thick golden curls. And his eyes.

“ _Oh_.” The damning word fell from her lips as she met his gaze.

His eyes were warm and golden like summer’s first harvest of honey. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips, dragged by a sharp scar further up his face. Even though she was seated on his horse, they were almost eye level; he was unbelievably tall. From the way his eyes flickered up and down, she could tell he was examining her as well—taking stock of his newest prize and finding her…well? From his smile and the heat of his gaze, Elena would wager that he was pleased with her.  _But does that bode well for me, or not?_

He swung up on the saddle behind her, one arm wrapping around her waist while his other hand settled, fingers splayed, across her bare thigh. He pulled her back, pressing her against his chest and into the cradle of his hips. Warmth radiated from his skin, almost scalding in the cold mountain air. Behind them his men mounted up, taking her valuables and horses with them. Cullen kicked his heels into their mount’s side and they were off, racing across the cold mountain paths until the main road disappeared into the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: NSFW rough-ish dubcon smut ahead!

The suffocating darkness of the tent closed around her, only broken by the occasional cold buffets of wind through the opening flaps and single candle burning besides her. Elena sat on the hard ground, arms wrapped around herself, shivering. The hide walls of the tent blocked some of the wind, but she just wasn’t used to being so exposed—traveling between Orlais and Ostwick, she would usually stay at castles along the way, or at the very least they would stop at an inn. Though she knew she would have been warmer if she sank into the pile of furs spread over the bedroll, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want the barbarian who had abducted her to think she was offering him anything when he came back to the tent.

She could hear the men outside talking and cheering over the crackle of the fire, the snippets of conversation she could catch were not nearly enough to make sense of, but it certainly didn’t stop her stomach from churning with anxiety. They had ridden hard all day, the miles between the ambush site and them falling away with each passing minute. The dead guards and ransacked carriage wouldn’t be discovered, not until it was far too late anyway. She knew there was next to no hope for her of ever getting home. 

The tent flap lifted, bringing an icy blast of wind as her captor stepped into the small space. She scrambled back, both from the wind and from him. Her barbarian—Cullen, his name must have been—had kept her close all day, and discouraged the other men from speaking to her; clearly he intended to keep her for his own amusements. He glanced at her a moment before he began stripping out of his clothes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, alarm high in her voice.

“I don’t sleep in my furs, too hot,” was his gruff reply as he unlaced his trousers.

Standing, Elena averted her eyes, cheeks glowing bright red with embarrassment. She’d never seen a man without a shirt on until today, much less without his trousers! Certainly he didn’t expect her to take her clothes off as well, did he?

A rough hand closed around her wrist and he tugged her forward, “come here.”

She wasn’t going to look, she wasn’t going— _oh_ , Andraste preserve her. Elena opened her eyes, her flush spreading down her neck and chest as she realized he was completely naked. His manhood hung between his legs, thick and heavy, against a thatch of dark golden curls. She felt an unfamiliar ache deep her thighs as she took in the sight of him. A part of her wanted to run screaming from the tent into the frozen wilderness around her. Another part of her wanted to  _touch_. Her pulse throbbed painfully at her throat when took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between them, the warmth of his body enveloped her. With a touch more gentle than she thought him capable of, he tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip, so that she was forced to meet his warm golden gaze once more.

“You’ll want to sleep under the covers with me tonight, or you’ll freeze to death,” he murmured, before leading her across the small space.

As they approached the bedroll, panic began to set in–she  _couldn’t_ sleep with him! She would be completely and utterly ruined if anyone found out. Surely he must understand that?

“I shouldn’t. I’ll be ruined if I do,” she whispered, tugging back against his grip and digging her heels into the cold ground.

Looking back, he cocked an eyebrow. But instead of forcing her into the bed, he simply shrugged and crawled under the covers, leaving her to shiver in the middle of the room.

“Suit yourself.”

Elena bit her lip. Another blast of frigid air blew past her, causing her teeth to chatter.

“Maker, forgive me,” she muttered, turning around and tugging at the laces of her dress—there was no way she could sleep on the ground in such a stiff corset and bodice.

She removed the outer layer of her clothes, and loosened her corset until she could peel it off, leaving her in her linen shift and smalls. Slowly, she turned back towards, him, eager to get under the covers and out of the cold.The blond warrior was watching her from where he lay on his side, head propped on his elbow. Even in the low light, she could see his eyes raking over her form, an appreciative, hungry look on his face. He lifted the covers, indicating that she should slide next him. Almost against her will, her eyes fell once again to his manhood; he was longer than he had been moments ago, the pink tip curving up towards his navel. A blush burnt at her ears when she realized he was aroused from watching her disrobe. Offering a silent prayer up to Andraste, Elena slipped under the covers.

She sighed as their warmth settled around her, though she lay stiff on her back, eyes focused on the ceiling and not the man next to her. His hand fell heavily across her waist, but he didn’t move to touch her otherwise . Still, the bedroll was small, and her side was pressed against him, his cock resting against her hip.

“Was that so hard, lass?” He chuckled, the deep rumble of his chest reverberating against her arm.

“Elena,” she hissed.

“Say again?”

“My name. It’s Elena. Lady Elena Melusine Claremont Trevelyan of Ostwick,” she said, as much to him as to remind herself of who she was. “Daughter of Bann Heinrich Trevelyan of Ostwick, the tenth of his name.”

“Cullen Ar Mara Red-Lion,” he murmured, warm breath fanning against her too sensitive skin.

She shivered in response and rolled onto her side, so that her back faced him. His name was strange; the first part,  _Cullen_ , sounded normal enough, but  _Ar Mara_? Wasn’t Mara a woman’s name? and Red-Lion, well maybe if he had said  _of_  Red-Lion, or  _from_  Red-Lion, but that bit didn’t make sense either. None of this—why she had been spared over everyone else, why he was being kind to her—made any sense.

“Why have you taken me?” She finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her apprehension.

It was a question that had been eating at her since he said he wasn’t looking for gold. Surely if he wanted to have his way with her, he would have done so by now. Why wait? Why take her, but not  _take_  her?

He chuckled, and sat up a little to blow out the lone candle near their heads. The tent was plunged into complete darkness, save for the orange glow seeping in through the flaps from the fire outside. He settled back down, hand gliding over her body to rest at her hip, drawing her into him. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest and legs pressing against her soft form, his stiffened member nestling against the curve of her bottom, still sore from where he had spanked her and subsequent hours in the saddle. He nuzzled her shoulder, warm lips brushing against the soft skin and sending tingles down her spine.

“Haven’t you guessed?” He murmured, planting a kiss against her neck. “I’m going to bed you,” another kiss. “And wed you,” a third kiss. “And make you my own.” He finished nipping her neck playfully.

He rutted against her, the head of his cock sliding along the ridge of her spine. She gasped, scandalized and  _burning_ at the movement. Her eyes widened in shock, anger, and  _desire._  She couldn’t deny the throb of excitement his words sent between her legs.  _Bed you and wed you, and make you my own_. It was shocking talk; no man in all of Orlais would be so coarse as to say such a thing, but the raw honesty and  _promise_  in his voice made her hands shake and her knees tremble.

His mouth was working at her neck, tracing intricate symbols with his lips and tongue while one large hand slipped around her to cup her breast through her shift. The contact caused a strange, pulsing heat to shoot from her nipple to the apex of her thighs and a strange, wanton noise pushed its way through her mouth as he nipped the juncture of her shoulder and throat again. He growled in response, driving his hips against her once more.

“I’m…I’m already,  _ahh_ , I’m already engaged,” she managed to choke out, fighting the shivers thrumming through her body as he continued to rub himself shamelessly against her.

Cullen gave a rough laugh, big hand rolling her breast in his hand, thumb brushing over her nipple “believe me,  _Elena_ , he’ll not want to plough your fields after I’ve sown my seed. And you’ll not want him to, either. I won’t force myself on you, but soon enough I won’t need to; you’ll want me, ache for me,  _beg_ me to take you.”

Each of his promises was punctured with a hard, rough thrust, and she realized she was moving against him, meeting his movements with her own. Anger flared through her at his words, cutting through the haze of pleasure. She sat up, quicker than he anticipated, and scrambled backwards out of his arms onto the cold ground.

“How dare you! I am not some broodmare to be fucked and filled and gotten with child! My family is the blood of Old Tevinter and Orlais! I will not be treated like a common whore,” she hissed.

Cullen scrambled after her, catching her around the ankle and yanking her back underneath him, the sudden movement causing her shift to ride up around her waist.

“You are  _mine_  now. I’ve stolen you, fair and right, and I’ll  _fuck_  you, and  _fill_  you, and make your belly grow as I please, lowlander,” he snarled, throwing her own words back at her, jaw clenched as he rolled his hips against her aching center.

There was fire coursing through her veins now, throbbing with each slide of his cock between her legs. She could feel herself growing slick, desire coating her thighs and making her ready for him to sheath inside of her. No man had ever treated her this way, had ever dared to. But this, this roughness and blunted way of speaking, it made her ache and burn and  _want_. She wanted to push him farther.

Summoning up all the anger, anxiety, and fear she had felt over the last twelve hours, Elena slapped him across his handsome face, hard enough to snap his head to the side. He glared at her, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. She did it again, slapping his other side of his face hard enough to turn his head, palms stinging from his stubble and the hard curve of his cheek. Grabbing her hands in one giant fist, he held her arms above their heads before yanking her smalls down to her knees. He pushed her legs open wide enough to accommodate him, settling himself firmly between her thighs. With frenzied thrusts he slid his cock back and forth against the seam of her cunt, his length heavy and throbbing. He didn’t enter her, but each jerk of his hips brought of burst of heat, blooming and unfurling at the apex of her thighs, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through her limbs.

He let go of her wrists to capture her face between his massive hands as he fell against her, chest pressing her into the bedroll and the unyielding earth below. His lips crashed down on hers, firm, and hard, and  _wanting_. Cullen’s tongue slid into her mouth, coaxing her lips apart with deftness, and she found herself kissing him back, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, one hand tangling in his hair, the other scraping her nails down his back hard enough to leave welts. She could feel something fast and tight building deep in her belly; she was soaking now, each slide of his cock against her bring her closer and closer and—

“ _Cullen_!” she cried, nails clawing at his shoulders and fingers tugging at his hair as a wave of pleasure ripped through her, causing her body to pulse and writhe against him.

He growled, biting down on her lips and thrusting harder, faster. She could feel his cock twitching against her aching, empty cunt and with a strangled groan he spilled himself in hot, white spurts of seed across her stomach. He slowed his hips, and after a moment their harsh pants and the musky scent of their rutting filled the air of the tent. Cullen rolled off of her, casting his arm over his forehead, the other resting over the crest of her hip.

She stared into the darkness of the tent as her heartbeat slowed and her body stopped trembling.  _Andraste preserve me, what I am doing?_  

 After a long moment, she turned on her side and curled into him as he pulled the fur coverlets snug around them.

_Surviving,_  she answered herself as she drifted off to slumber in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning dawned cold and clear. Elena awoke to a man she didn’t recognize looming over her, shaking her shoulder. The events of last night and the day before came crashing over her as the world came into focus around her. Startled, she scrambled back, clutching the blankets over her chest.

“Who are you? Where’s Cullen?” She demanded.

The man grinned. He was handsome with swarthy skin and rich brown hair. Unlike most of the other men in the camp, he wore a leather cuirass under his furs, protecting his chest and stomach from attack.

“Cullen asked me to watch after you this morning while he takes care of some things,” the man grinned and handed over her discarded dress from the night before. “Best put this on quickly, we’re about to take down camp and move out.”

Elena dressed and exited the tent, casting a wary eye around her to see the men bustled about, taking down tents and loading up the horses. Try as she might, she couldn’t see Cullen anywhere.

“Here, eat up,” the other man said, appearing at her side and shoving a hard chuck of bread and some cheese into her hand.

Elena nibbled at the food with distaste—what she wouldn’t give for a nice poached egg. Across the clearing Cullen suddenly appeared from the woods. He glanced at her for a moment, before turning to speak to another barbarian. Elena took a step towards him, but stopped when she felt a strong hand on her forearm.

“He said he doesn’t want to be bothered today, sorry. You’ve got to stay here,” the other man said, an apologetic grin on his face.

“Well, I never!” Elena snapped, her anger returning in force; how dare he ignore her after what they did together the night before.

She wretched her arm out of his grip, and continued marching across the clearing, a scowl etched on her face. She made it about halfway when Cullen turned around again, eyes falling to her. Before she could start yelling—it _would_  serve him right if she a scene large enough for the entire came to hear, the dark-haired man rode in front of her on a grey horse. She stumbled back, wary of being trampled.

“Come on. Time to mount up,” he said loudly, extending his hand down to her. “We’ll reach the holdfast by mid-afternoon if we move fast.”

With one last, exasperated glance in Cullen’s direction, Elena allowed herself to be pulled up onto the saddle behind him. She wrapped her arms gingerly around his waist and leaned in close as their mount began to move.

“Name’s Krem, by the way. I figured since I’m going to be your karl you ought to know my name,” he said, glancing back at her.

“My what?” she asked, distracted as they rode out after Cullen’s white steed.

“Your karl—your man. I’m in charge of looking after you. Well, making sure no one messes with you now that you’re going to be Cullen’s woman.”

Is that was last night had been about?  _Claiming_  her? She felt disgusted and furious that Cullen hadn’t bother explaining anything to her.

“Excuse me? I don’t  _belong_  to anyone,” she huffed, wrapping her arms tighter around Krem’s middle as their mount sped up.

“Well, you’ll want to. Soon as we get to the holdfast Thane Skinchanger will try to claim you. But you’re better off with Cullen. He’s a good man. He’s trying to fix things.”

Elena let that last comment go and instead decided to ignore Krem’s attempts at small talk. She was confused, furious, and not a little hurt. Why wasn’t she riding with Cullen? Was he embarrassed about last night? Should she be? Had she shown herself to be a loose woman? Not fit for the purpose that he had taken her for? And what on earth did Krem mean by the Thane would try to claim her? Hadn’t Cullen already claimed her? She felt woefully adrift—toss her into a salon where the Game was being played and she would excel, but here, nothing seemed to have rules, or at least none that she could understand.

They rode at a fast pace, the forest flying by. With each fall of the horses’ hooves, Elena knew she was farther and farther away from ever seeing Orlais, Ostwick or her family ever again. She’d be stuck in this frozen wilderness with these barbarians for the rest of her life—certainly she didn’t have the skills to survived on her own, nor, even, to escape back to the site of their ambush. Perhaps Krem was right—Cullen may have been a taciturn barbarian, but he was the barbarian she knew; this Thane was unknown to her.

As the sun passed through the sky, smoke began to appear on the horizon. Soon enough the trees began to thin out, and suddenly they were in the middle of a village. Small wooden houses, most no bigger than one room, clustered around a square with a well at the center. Directly across from the entrance to the holdfast was a large wooden hall with a thatched roof. As the sounds of their party echoed off the buildings, people began to look and gather around them. Barefoot children yelled in excitement as more hesitant adults watched from the sidelines. Elena could feel the weight of their eyes on her, and some even pointed as they whispered behind their hands.

A man dressed in furs and rich red cloth stood at the entrance to the long hall, a frown fixed on his face. Elena watched as Cullen swung down from his mount and sauntered over to the other man, inclining his head ever so slightly in a salute. He motioned and some of his men brought forth her trunks. She couldn’t hear the exchange happening, but a moment later Cullen motioned again, and Krem swung down from the horse, before lifting her from the saddle. He walked her across the square, until she stood next to Cullen, who looped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. She glared, arms crossed over her chest stubbornly. How dare he ignore her after practically deflowering her and then have the gall to lay claim to her like this.

“You’ve had this woman?” The older man asked, eyes running over her body in a way that made her skin crawl.

Cullen nodded, a sharp jerk of his chin. “I spilled my seed between her legs last night.”

Elena felt her face go crimson at his words, the memory of his warm seed spurting on her belly fresh in her mind, the way his cock had twitched and pulsed against her aching entrance as he groaned into her neck. She shivered.

“And she agreed to it?” the man asked, looking at her though he spoke to Cullen.

Cullen jostled her a bit, glancing sharply down at her.

“I…” she began; what he said wasn’t technically a lie, he had been between her legs when he came, and despite herself, she had been willing. Krem’s warning that she would rather be Cullen’s than the other man’s echoed in her ears as she heard herself answer. “Yes. He had my maidenhead.”

“Fine.” The other man said, turning on his heel to reenter the hall. “But I’ll be taking what’s rightfully owed to me. And I’ll want proof.”

Cullen sighed and released her as soon as the man disappeared, and headed towards a house just a few down from the longhouse. A moment later, Krem was ushering her to follow.

“What in the name of Andraste’s fiery knickers was that about?” She asked just before they entered the building.

Krem sighed, “I told you the Thane would try to claim you. You did well though, choosing, I mean.”

Elena nodded, not really sure how to take his praise.

As they entered, she heard a squeal of delight. The room was dim, lit only by the light from a single window and smoldering hearth. There was a large wooden table with benches, and shelves nailed to the walls. Despite a number of pots and other cookware, there wasn’t much in the way of foodstuffs—save for a sack of flour and a few half filled barrels of salted meat and rather small looking vegetables. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the scene before her; Cullen stood in the middle of the room, two blond women were talking to him excitedly, one of them holding him in what looked like a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, we’ve missed you! Are you staying long? Are you back for good? You can’t imagine how awful it’s been without you. Branson was sent away and Mia has to practically beat Skinchanger’s men away from the door,” the shorter one exclaimed, finally releasing him from her embrace; Elena noticed she had a smattering of freckles across her face.

“Rose, hush,” the other woman whispered, eyeing Elena and Krem with some interest.

The shorter girl and Cullen both followed the taller woman’s gaze, turning around to look at her.

“Oh, Cullen, is this her?” The freckled one asked, her voice holding a softer version of Cullen’s accent.

The taller one glanced at them before pouring two cups of water from a jug. She handed one to Krem before turning to Elena and offering it to her.

“Yes,” Cullen said stiffly as he gazed at Elena, the expression in his amber eyes not quite readable.

“This is Rosalie, and this is Mia, my sisters.” He finally said, gaze falling so that they didn’t quite meet hers as he gestured at the shorter woman and then the taller one, as he introduced them.

They stared at her, expectation clear on Rosalie’s face.

“I’m Lady Elena Trevelyan of Ostwick,” she murmured, falling back on her manners when all else failed her.

She was puzzled by Rosalie’s words—how had they known to expect her? Who was Branson? Elena tried to file away everything that was being said so she could think on it later, but there was just so much information she didn’t understand.

Rosalie went around the table to her, a broad smile on her face as she clasped Elena’s hands in her own.

“I’m so glad you’re here! Least of all since it means Cullen’s back. By the Lady, your hair  _is_ lovely,” she exclaimed, running her fingers through Elena’s hair, and smoothing some back behind her ear.

Elena pulled back a little, eyes wide in surprise by the sudden invasion of her personal space. Rosalie didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, however and continued beaming at her.

“Um, thank you,” she stammered, politeness kicking in like an instinct. “You have a beautiful smile.”

Behind them, Cullen cleared his throat and Rosalie immediately dropped her hands.

“I’ll be back after dinner; I must speak with Skinchanger,” Cullen said, sharing some silent communication with Mia, who nodded.

He turned to go through a doorway behind him, pushing aside the thick cloth that hung from the top of the frame in place of a wooden door. Elena felt her stomach drop—she knew she mustn’t let him out of her sight without getting some answers.

“Cullen, wait!” She called, hurrying after him and pointedly ignoring the look exchanged between his sisters at her behavior.

She caught up to him in the next room, a bedroom of sorts with two narrow wooden beds pressed against opposite walls, his hand ready to push open the backdoor. He paused, turning towards, his expression unreadable. Painfully aware of the cloth separating them from the others just in the room beyond, Elena stepped forward until there they were mere inches from each other.

“Will you  _please_  tell me what’s going on?” she whispered, looking up at him beseechingly.

Cullen’s expression softened for just a moment as he regarded her, before he frowned again. “Krem will explain everything to you.”

Elena shook her head. No that would be just another way to put her off. She stared at him hard, eyes raking over the stern set of his jaw and the powerful flex of his muscles in his crossed arms. She realized he had two locks of hair grown longer than the rest; they were braided so they fell down his neck. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his chest; his skin was warm and the light dusting of golden chest hair softer than she expected. She could just feel the beat of his heart under her fingertips.

“I want you to tell me,” she murmured, trying to make her expression as soft and vulnerable as possible.

Cullen sighed, clearly exasperated with her stubbornness. “I don’t have the time right now. I need to speak to our Thane,” he said, nearly spitting the word Thane.

Elena took a step back, surprised by his sudden venom. Krem’s words from earlier that day came back to her:  _he’s trying to change things_. Cullen’s expression softened again when he realized he’d startled her. He reached for her, cupping her cheek with this sword-roughened hands.

“Tonight. We’ll speak tonight,” he promised, leaning down to brush his lips over her forehead, then down further to her mouth for the briefest of kisses. “Now be a good girl for me and stay here.”

He was out the door before she could respond, and after a moment of contemplating going after him, she turned around and reentered the kitchen. The women gathered around the hearth tried their best not to let on if they’d overheard her conversation with their brother. Krem, on the other hand, had busied himself with peeling some potatoes.

“Will you help us prepare dinner?” Mia asked, eyes narrowed as she looked over Elena’s flushed cheeks.

Elena started, taken aback. “I—I don’t know how. But, I can try,” she finally manged to stutter out.

The women exchanged looks again, while Krem raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“You’ve never cooked before?” Rosalie finally ask, incredulity dripping off each word.

_This is going to be a long night_ , Elena thought, glancing out the window to see that the sun was only just beginning to set. She took a deep breath–soon it would be evening, and soon Cullen would explain everything. He had promised her. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW: Rough-ish dubcon smut including spanking and biting

Hours later, Elena lay across a a wooden bed large enough for two in the loft of the house. She was counting the stars through the window, trying not to cry. The entire evening had been a disaster. Not only did her hands ached from helping cook and clean, but her pride was hurt from realizing just how useless she was when it came doing what appeared to be natural to the women of the Avvar. Though Mia and Rosalie had been nice enough, she got the distinct feeling that they certainly didn’t think much of her.

_She can’t cook? How peculiar._   _Never done the washing up? Will she be of_ any _use?_

Elena blushed furiously, and scrubbed her hand over her eyes, trying to force the tears back. She was stuck here, possibly for the rest of her life; crying wouldn’t do any good. To top it off, she hadn’t seen Cullen since he left that afternoon, and instead, she had been left with strange women who couldn’t fathom why any man would take her to wife.

They were sleeping now, in one of the backrooms below her. Krem was somewhere—Elena wasn’t sure where, but he said he’d be close by if she needed anything, saying goodnight to her after dinner and promising to be back in the morning. She hadn’t had the opportunity to ask him anything, of course; she had been too shy with Cullen’s sisters always hovering nearby. Certainly they didn’t need to know about her nightly activities with their brother.

A slight rustle alerted her that she was not alone; sitting up, she scrambled back against the wall, fur coverlet clutched tightly against her chest. A moment later, Cullen’s blond head appeared at the top of the ladder to the loft, illuminated by the moon and the starlight pouring in through the window. In the low light, his hair shown almost white and his eyes were molten pools of silver. Elena let out a small sigh of relief and settled back down on the mattress, her back facing him—she was still irritated that he had ignored her all day, after all. Eyes squeezed shut, she listened to him rummage around the room for a moment, mostly likely disrobing. She bit her lip, wondering if he expected the same intimacy as the night before.

She felt the cool rush of night air as the blankets were lifted, and a moment later, Cullen’s warm body slid in next to hers, one of his hands immediately grasping her hip and pulling her flush against him. She shivered, recalling the sweet pressure of his body on top of hers the previous night. He brushed his lips across her shoulder, the scruff of his beard scratching just as much as his mouth soothed.

“Mia tells me you can’t cook,” he murmured; if she wasn’t mistaken, she could almost believe he was laughing at her.

Elena wrenched herself out of his grasp, and rolled onto her back, arms crossed over her chest. She glared at him.

“If you wanted a woman who could cook, you shouldn’t have taken a noblewoman,” she snapped. “I’m not even sure I know where the kitchen  _is_  in my father’s house.”

He laughed, a rich sound that rumbled deep in his chest, and despite herself, Elena wanted desperately to hear that sound again and again. “There’s no harm in it, lass. You’ll just have to learn.”

She arched an eyebrow, her irritation growing at his assumption. “Who says I _want_  to learn?”

A look of genuine puzzlement crossed his face. “Well, how else are we going to eat?”

She snorted and rolled over, scooting as far away from him as possible without falling into the crack between the mattress and the wall.  _Typical barbarian_ , she seethed.  _Of course the woman has to cook._

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a question, in fact, he sounded annoyed.

“Yes, well spotted.”

Before the silence could stretch between them, she felt anger bubble up through her chest. She sat up, and turned to him.

“Yes, I am upset and I think I have perfectly valid reasons to be. In the last two days, I’ve  watched my companions murdered, been kidnapped, hauled around this Maker-forsaken country, seduced,  _ignored_ , and now you tell me you expect me to be your happy little housewife who cooks and cleans for you? Andraste’s knickers, no wonder you Avvar have to steal your women!”

He was sitting up now, his jaw set hard at her words. Cullen captured her chin, holding it hard between his thumb and fingers, forcing her to look at him.

“I’ve told you, you’re  _mine_  and you’ll do as I say.  _For your own good_.”

Elena shoved his hand away, and snarled. “Bite my arse!”

The world spun stomach-wrenchingly fast as he threw her over his lap, where she sprawled across the bed. Rough hands tugged the hem of her shift up and then ripped her smalls down to her ankles, exposing her rear to the cold night air. He had one iron-strong forearm across the back of knees, making her kicks useless, while his other hand pressed down firmly on the small of her back. Before she could do anything, she felt a sharp pain sink into her buttocks followed by the warm, soothing glide of his tongue. She squealed, more in shock that he had actually bitten her than from pain.

He pulled back after a moment, his hand rubbing soothing circles around the bite mark.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me now?” He purred, leaning down to whisper at her ear.

She shivered; she wanted to nod, to agree and melt into his arms, to give into the heat that was licking its across her body from his bite. But she couldn’t let him have her that easily. Instead she glared at him, lips twisted in a snarl.

“I thought not,” he said, pulling back.

Suddenly he raised his hand, bringing it down hard on her uninjured butt cheek. The sound of flesh hitting flesh rang out in the room and Elena gasped from the sharp heat of his strike. He raised his hand again, and dealt out three quick, successive smacks, alternating cheeks. She pressed her lips together, refusing to cry out for him. It hurt though, especially on the cheek he had bitten, and she could feel the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. And yet, and yet the heated throb between her thighs only grew in intensity each time his hand met her flesh.

“Are you ready to behave?” He demanded.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She felt his hand lift and much to her surprise her hips rose of their own volition to meet his strike this time. Her shifted position made him falter, his fingers glancing off of the soaking heat between her legs.

Elena let out a low, throaty moan when he touched her, the contact causing her to clench in anticipation of more. Her eyes went wide, and she quickly clapped her hands over her mouth when she realized what she’d done. Silence rang through the room, and after a long moment she chanced a look up at him.

He was staring at her, pupils blown wide with lust. As she lifted her eyes to him, a slow, wolfish smile spread over his lips.

“Do you _like_  it when I take you over my knee?’ his voice was low and husky, and as he spoke, his fingers crept between her legs, stroking the very base of her entrance.

She nodded, unwilling to put her filthy desires into words. It was  _wrong_  that she should like being struck on the backside, that she should like his fingers pressed up against her womanhood. He was a barbarian, a heathen who worshiped demons for Andraste’s sake, and he had kidnapped her, effectively ruining her for any other man. But she couldn’t help the way her body reacted to him, the way he made her  _burn_.

“Elena, listen to me carefully,” he began, teasing the seam of her cunt with the lightest of touches. “Tomorrow the Thane is going to invite you to his longhouse and ask you to submit proof that I’ve had you. The Elder Women are going to examine you and if they find that you’ve not been claimed, the Thane will take you for himself,” Cullen broke off, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Elena, he is not a good man; he will not treat you well and he already has a wife—you will be nothing but a concubine for him and any children you might bear would be little better than slaves. I can touch you tonight, use my fingers to make it look as if I’ve already…as if we’ve already lain together. But you must tell me you want me to. I won’t enter you without your wanting it.”

His words cut through the dizzying haze of pleasure surrounding her from the teasing trail of his fingertips. None of this made any sense; she didn’t understand half of what he said to her— _elder women? Examine her_? How in the Maker’s name would that even work? She bit her lip, thinking over his words; she knew less of this Thane than she did of Cullen, surprising as it was. It could be that it would be better to ally herself with the more powerful party, but Cullen had only ever shown her kindness—a rough kindness, but kindness nonetheless. She couldn’t know if he was telling her the truth; she would have to trust him, though she couldn’t say how confident she felt doing that, either. All she knew was that despite herself, despite being told her entire life that sexual pleasure was a sin, she didn’t want him to stop touching her. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way her body had shivered and rippled and come undone under him, how empty she had felt without him inside of her.

She bit her lip, and nodded. “Please.”

Cullen nearly growled at that little word, and she knew that was all he needed to continue.

He helped her scramble off his lap, so that she was lying in the bed next to him. When she made to roll onto her back, he stopped her, something a kin to a sheepish grin on his handsome face. Deciding to follow his lead for once, Elena settled down on her stomach, her face turned to him, where he was sprawled out next to her on his side, head propped on his elbow. Slowly, almost gently, he pushed her legs further apart, until he could cup her sex completely in his large hand. With firm, calloused fingertips, he dragged down her folds, until he could thrust two fingers  _up_  and  _in_. She let out another low groan as she pressed her cheek to the soft fur beneath her. She’d never—no man had ever touched her like this before;  _she’d_  never touched herself like this, and she’d certainly never thought being touched could feel like this, so full and aching. He repeated his motion, cupping her, dragging his fingers slowly down before entering her again. She rocked her hips against his hand, hitting the same spot that had made her come undone the night before.

“Do you want this? Do you like it when I touch you?” He asked, working his fingers deeper inside of her at a painstakingly slow pace; making shallow thrusts before pulling out, only to press in just a little further when he reentered her each time.

“Mmmm,” she moaned in response.

“Say it,” he ordered, sinking his fingers deep within her, causing her to clench around him.

“Yes,” she gasped, hands fisting in the furs below her. “Yes!  _Cullen_. Please!”

He set a slow but intense pace; each thrust in of his fingers was firm, his knuckles rubbing against a spot inside of her that made her breath hitch. As he plundered her, the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs rubbed against the mattress beneath them, causing more heat to bloom across her body, welling up from deep inside of her to spread across every inch of skin. An assortment of soft, mewling, keening noises fell from her lips as her hips began to work in time with his hands.

“Yes, just like that,” he half-moaned against her shoulder as he peppered her skin with kisses. “ _Good girl._ ”

The purr of his voice washed over her, hitting her just as he thrust in again and her hips drove down into the mattress. White exploded across her vision, her legs clamping impossibly tight around his hand as she moaned, her body rippling and thrumming in time with the clenching between her legs. Cullen worked his fingers inside of her, heightening and prolonging her pleasure until her legs began to shake and her moans tapered off into satisfied gasps and hums.

Slowly, Cullen pulled out of her. Elena whimpered at the sudden emptiness, and pushed herself up on shaking arms to look at him. She knew she must look a sight–face flushed and hair tousled, a cold sweat covering her body. Before she could say something– _anything_ , he brought his fingers to his mouth, keeping his eyes locked on hers all the while, sucking and licking them clean of her desire. They moaned in unison at his actions, him from the taste of her, her from the sight of him so freely enjoying her pleasure.

“You taste like  _sun_ ,” he murmured before leaning down to brush a kiss across her cheek.

Elena felt warm and boneless as they shifted in the bed together, trying to find a comfortable position. As the blankets momentarily lifted, she saw his manhood, hard and quivering where it lay across his taut stomach, a single drop of pale liquid leaking from the tip. She bit her lip; surely it was unkind to leave him like that.

Hesitantly, she reached her hand forward, pausing along his hip, “should I…?”

“No,” he murmured, brushing her hand away, then a pause, “let me show you.”

Elena watched, transfixed as Cullen gripped the base of his shaft with one powerful hand. Slowly, he dragged his grip up, then back down, flicking his thumb over the head of his cock when he reached the top. He repeated his action, hips twitching slightly. Finally, he began to pump himself in earnest, his movements smooth and languorous, hips flexing as his hand worked around his cock. Up, down, up, down, twist, flick. 

The now familiar ache began to build between her thighs as she watched him. Her breath hitched as he reached down to cup his balls, a soft moan spilling past his lips as he flickered his thumb over the crown of his cock again. Elena took in the sight of him, his eyes closed and head tilted back, watched his mouth part so he could lick his lips as he moaned; she watched the way the muscles of his arm quivered and shifted, the way his hard stomach clenched and flexed. He was moving quicker now, his hand beating out a furious rhythm along his shaft–it wouldn’t be long now; he was already so close after watching her writhe and buck under his touch. 

Tentatively, she reached forward, and covered his hand with her smaller one. His hips jerked, and she heard his sharp hiss of breath at the initial contact. Soon, however, he widened his grip, allowing her fingers to slot between his own so that she could touch his warm, velvet skin. She followed his lead, stroking and twisting and squeezing as he did, relishing each buck of his hips and low moan.

Cullen turned his head, regarding her hotly through a half-lidded gaze. With a shudder than ran through his entire body and one final hard twist of their wrists down, Cullen came, white hot liquid spurting over his chest and stomach, his hand working at himself, but at a slower rhythm. His breath came out in harsh pants and Elena realized she too was having trouble catching her breath—she had never witnessed anything quite so arousing, so  _erotic_ , as watching this man come apart in his own hands, with her,  _for her_.

She let her gaze linger over his body, taking in how flushed his skin was, the way his muscles twitched as he relaxed. Her eyes were drawn to his stomach, where his come was slowly dripping down to his navel. The image of him suckling her desire from his fingers flashed through her mind, and before she knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and dragged a fingertip through his seed, catching some up. Meeting his heated stare, she brought her finger to her lips and sucked. She frowned slightly as her tongue explored the taste of him: salty, musky, undeniably masculine, but surprisingly enjoyable. A smile curled over her lips as she removed her finger from her mouth and opened her eyes. Cullen was staring at her again, pupils blown wide in lust. He took a deep breath and cupped her face, running his thumb along her bottom lip.

“By the Mountain Father, you’re going to be the death of me if you keep that up.”

And then he was kissing her, pressing her back down into the mattress, tongue curling around her own. She let out a soft moan, her hands scrambling along his broad shoulders for purchase. 

“You promised me answers,” she managed to whispered against his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, as he trailed kisses along her jaw. “My beautiful lowlander. Kissed by fire.”

He wove his fingers through her auburn hair, tugging just hard enough to tilt her head back, granting him better access to the long column of her throat. Elena gasped as he planted hot, open-mouthed kisses against her pulse point, and tangled her fingers in his golden curls. 

“When you finally give yourself to me,” he continued, lips fastening to her collarbone, teeth nipping the delicate skin there. “We’ll be pledged to wed. Until then, I haven’t claimed you–not fully.” 

Slowly, he raised his head, his large hands sliding down to cradle her face so that she met his gaze. “And when that happens, I can take back the holdfast–I can claim my birthright and become Thane. With you at my side, Elena. I promise that I’ll take no other wife but you, lay with no other woman. You’ll be my lady and the Lady of Clan Red-Lion. But you _must_  do as I say.”


	5. Chapter 5

“But why  _me_?” Elena finally managed to squeak out as the seriousness of his words—of what he was offering her—finally sunk in.

Cullen shifted a little, so that he was more comfortably sprawled on top of her, though most of his weight rested on his forearms. He loomed over her in the darkness, his golden curls catching the moonlight to form a silver halo as his thumb stroked over her cheekbone.

“Because, lass, you’re a lowlander,” he said; when he saw a slight frown furrow her brow, he continued. “Generally, Avvar men take their brides from neighboring clans—to help keep the blood from thinning; too much intermarriage within a clan is bad for blood and breeding. The farther away a woman’s clan, the more prized she is, since she’s not likely to be related to anyone. And you, lass, you’re from about as far away as possible. It’s a mark of pride and something worthy of respect to take a foreign wife. Not to mention the goods you brought with you will help the entire holdfast prosper.  _If_ Skinchanger had followed tradition, all your belongings would be mine, to give out and form bonds of loyalty with. Unfortunately, he’s taken everything, save you. And if the Elder Women aren’t satisfied that I’ve fully claimed you tomorrow, he’ll take you too.”

Elena swallowed hard, taking in everything he was telling her. Finally, she was getting some real answers, but the way his voice wavered ever so slightly with his last words made her sad.

“Why don’t you claim me, then?” She asked, tentatively.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to hers for the briefest of moments. “Didn’t I promise you I wouldn’t force you? If you give yourself to me, I want it to be because you desire it—not because I ask.”

“Oh.” It was all she could think of to say, in truth.

She’d never expected a man to give her that option; she had been raised instead to expect that her father would choose someone for her to marry, and it would be her duty to sleep with him in order to provide heirs.

Cullen brushed his lips across hers once more, and this time Elena managed to return his touch, her hands tightening around his neck for a moment. Breaking the kiss, he rolled off of her and pulled her into his arms. She shifted, finally resting her head against his chest, one of her arms and legs thrown across his body.

“Sleep on it, lass,” he murmured, pressing another kiss into the crown of her head. “I promise tomorrow will go well.”

~*~

Elena’s eyes fluttered open, a soft rustling noise filling her ears. She eased up on her forearm, blinking the sleep slowly from her eyes in the pre-dawn light.

“Cullen?” She called, only just making out his form on the far side of the room, where a chest was tucked under the eaves of the house.

At her voice, he turned around, fingers quickly lacing up the front of his trousers, though he remained shirtless. He stalked over to her and, bending down, gently pressed a kiss to her lips, his hand cupping her cheek.

“Go back to sleep, Elena. You don’t have to be up for a few more hours,” he murmured.

“Where are you going?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep as she sank back down into the bed.

Cullen pulled the fur coverlet up around her shoulders and smoothed her hair back from her face. “To make sure this evening goes as smoothly as possible. Don’t worry, lass. I’ll take care of you—of everything.”

She was asleep again before he turned away.

~*~

The rest of the morning and the early afternoon past surprisingly quickly, all things considered. Though there was some initial awkwardness once Elena finally made her way down the ladder. She tried to avoid Rosalie and Mia’s glances as she walked into the kitchen, painfully aware that they had probably heard at least some of the more  _vocal_  results of Cullen’s attentions to her last night. Despite any initial awkwardness, she quickly got to work, asking Rosalie to show her how to make bread.

Elena was washing the flour off of her cheek in the basin next to the fireplace when she heard Cullen enter the kitchen. She grinned to herself in the rippling water and tried to put her hair to rights. She heard the tromp of his boots on the hard packed earthen floor, and she knew he was only a few feet away from her. She spun around, a smile on her face, to find him regarding her with an appreciative look that made heat flush through her body. When he realized she was looking at him, his gaze snapped back up to her face and he grinned a confident smile back at her.

“The feast in the Thane’s meadhouse begins at sundown. The Elder Women will pronounce on your status as well” he paused, glancing down at his hands where he held a leather pouch. “I, ah, have something for you.”

With his large fingers clumsy on the delicate strings of the bag, Cullen peeled back the leather to reveal a flash of white in the dim lighting of the room. The material shifted, and Elena realized he was holding a string of pearls—each one was a slightly different oblong shape than the next, though they all gleamed the same brilliant shade of white. Cullen took a step towards her and gently looped the necklace over her head, ever mindful of her hair, before twisting and repeating his action once, twice, thrice, until the longest loop of pearls hung just below her bust. His fingers brushed against the tops of her breasts as he worked, sending a soft cascade of shivers down her spine. Once he was finished, he took a step back, his confident smile once more fixed on his face.

“There, now you a properly adorned as a newly claimed woman,” he murmured, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice.

Elena was speechless. Jewelry, he’d brought her jewelry. Of course she’d been giving gifts of jewels before, but this was somehow different—he wasn’t courting her, not  _really_  since she was already practically his. He had done it because he wanted her to have something nice. She felt something warm rush up inside of her chest, tight and insistent. Unable to think of anything else to do, she pitched forward, throwing her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace. He stumbled back a half step as he caught her, clearly not expecting such a reaction. Quickly wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close.

“ _Cullen_ , thank you,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“You deserve to be covered from head to toe in jewels, lass” he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

Elena glanced up at him; the heady look of lust he gave her sent a fire coursing through her veins. Before she could say anything in response, he bent his head and captured her lips with his, his arms tightening around her, crushing her to him as he kissed her. She sighed, and curled her body into his. She let her hands run over the hard panes of his chest, as his mouth moved against hers.

Behind them, there was a polite cough. Elena immediately pulled away, though Cullen kept his hand at her hip. Mia and Rosalie stood in the doorway. Rosalie was grinning, a giggle escaping her lips; next to her, Mia looked somewhat less than amused. The taller woman turned to her sister.

“Rose, why don’t you help our guest get ready for the feast, I need to speak with our brother.”

Rosalie rushed forward, grabbing Elena’s hand and pulling her into one of the backrooms, where a tub full of steaming water waited. Before she could ask the Avvar girl what was going on, Rosalie began unlacing the stays on the front of her dress.

“Mia says we all have to bathe before the feast tonight, and she’s going to wash your dress too—you’ve been wearing it for a few days, which isn’t a bad thing, but you know, you ought to look nice for tonight,” she paused, giving Elena a mischievous smile. “Cullen will like it, certainly.”

From out in the main room, she could hear muffled voices, both angry.

_Mother…pearls…fool_. That was Mia.

_Fix things…sweet…none of your—_ Before Elena could make out the rest of Cullen’s words, Rosalie gently grabbed Elena’s chin and turned her attention back to their room.

“Better not listen it that. They’ll shout it out and everything will be fine. Don’t mind Mia.” The other girl gave a final tug to Elena’s dress and the fabric fluttered to the floor. “Now take the rest off and climb in, the water won’t stay warm forever, and all of us gotta use it.”

Hesitantly, Elena carefully removed the necklace Cullen had just given her before she peeled her shift off, her hands immediately coming to cover her breasts. In the other room, the voices escalated in volume, though not in clarity.

“Well, go on, get in!” Rosalie encouraged.

Elena took a step forward, ready to climb in, but before she could, the cloth hanging over the door was violently thrust aside, and Mia stalked in. Just beyond, in the main room, Elena caught sight of Cullen. He stared at her, eyes raking over her naked form, desire washing over his face, and she realized that he had never seen her completely naked before. He took a step forward, but Mia shoved the cloth back into place, cutting him off.

“Please get in, milady,” Mia said, stiffly gesturing to the tub.

~*~

It was well after dark by the time they arrived at the Thane’s longhouse at the center of the holdfast. Elena wondered if Cullen hadn’t done so on purpose; she could feel the eyes of practically the entire hold on her as they walked down the center of the huge feasting room.

Chatter and music filled the air, along with the smell of roasting meat. There were two long table set up along the edge of the room, with men and women socializing freely wherever they sat. Between the tables were large fire pits, some of which still had animals roasting on spits over them. At the back of the room was another table with what Elena assumed was the Thane’s throne placed squarely in the middle. A number of people were sitting along the high table next to Skinchanger, including a blond woman with a hard look on her face.

Cullen chose a spot at the top of the right-hand table, and motioned for everyone to sit, pulling Elena next to him and keeping one arm firmly around her waist. She leaned into him, thankful for his solid warmth at her side; the way the Thane was looking at her made her nervous on top of her already jittery nerves at the prospect of being examined later.  _Whatever that entailed_ , she thought ruefully.

Dinner was brought out on large bronze platters—from the way most people attacked the food, Elena wondered if Red Lion hold hasn’t suffered a famine recently.

To her left, Rosalie and Mia were chatting with Krem and a few other men from Cullen’s warrior band as they ate. Elena watched them, realizing that most people around her ate with their hands, or perhaps with the aid of a knife—there were no forks in sight. She glanced at her empty plate, hesitant, unsure how she was to go about taking a portion of food. She wasn’t even sure if she could tolerate anything, given the way her stomach was roiling.

“Here, lass, eat up,” Cullen murmured next to her, holding a morsel of meat to her lips.

Her eyes widened—was he really going to feed her? Here, in front of everyone? She wanted to protest, claim that she wasn’t a child and could certainly feed herself for Andraste’s sake. Glancing at his face, however, all her protest died on her lips. He was looking at her with a soft, almost tender expression—as if he saw how nervous and out of place she felt, and wanted to ease that anxiety for her. She was touched. Nodding, she took the food between her teeth, careful not to bite him. A warm smile spread over his face before he leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple in the briefest of kisses. As he pulled away, she saw a dark look flicker on Skinchanger’s face, where he watched them from a few feet away.

She ate slowly as he fed her small, succulent bites of everything. At first she was mindful of his fingers, afraid to nip him or appear messy, but slowly she let her teeth and lips brush over his skin, let her tongue flicking out against the hard callouses of his fingertips. He popped a grape into her mouth, and groaned at the way her tongue wrapped around the length of his finger, dragging the sweet fruit past her lips. He shifted her so that she sat between his widespread legs, and she could feel the hard length of him against her hip.

“Another?” He asked.

She nodded, leaning her head forward with eager anticipation. Instead of feeding her the grape, however, Cullen brought it to his own lips and held it between his teeth, before he inclined his head. Elena blushed, realizing how it would look if she took it from him. He was watching her, eyes half lidded as he waited patiently for her to decide if she was going to take what he offered. After a moment of deliberation, Elena leaned forward, a shy blush spreading over her cheeks as she bit through the sweet fruit, her lips brushing against his own. As she pulled away, she felt his cock throb through his breeches.

Elena bit her lip, momentarily overwhelmed by the desire that washed over her—she had never expected anything like this could be so intimate. Part of her wanted to tell him to take her home—take her home and ravish her senseless, claim her completely beyond all doubt. Or better yet, she wanted him to press her up against the wall outside and have his way with her; she didn’t think she could wait the five minute it would take to walk to the cabin. No one would see; they would all be too busy inside enjoying the feast.

She was so close to leaning over and whispering into his ear— _I want you. Take me._  The look on his face alone would be worth it; she could already imagine the lust that would wash over his him, the way his pupils would widen until almost no honey brown showed. He would stand and swing her over his shoulder, and _everyone_  would know that she was claimed, that she was his. The thought of it made her thighs slick with excitement.

But before she could do that, Thane Skinchanger banged his mug down hard on the stone arm of his throne.

“Silence! My good people, SILENCE.”

The large room quickly quieted and Elena felt Cullen’s arm tighten around her waist.

“Tonight, we have an honored guest in the hold,” Skinchanger said, standing and holding his hand out towards where Elena was seated. “Elena, Lady to the Lowlanders, be welcome to Red Lion Hold. As a sign of good faith, you may choose one of your trunks back from the baggage you so generously gifted me.”

The Thane snapped his fingers and a moment later, servants appeared from the partition behind his throne, carrying all of her things. Elena sat up straighter, her heartbeat painfully hard in her throat. Her things—all of her things that had been stolen and then re-stolen; she wanted it all back, but she knew that wasn’t possible. She knew, however, exactly which chest she was going to choose.

Slowly she rose from her seat, extricating herself from Cullen’s protective embrace. She crossed the room, pausing in front of Skinchanger. She curtseyed low, giving him her most formal bow, as well as a generous view of the tops of her breasts.

“How very magnanimous of you, my lord,” she said in a voice loud enough for most in the silent hall to hear.

If there was one thing she’d learned from her time in the Orlesian court, it was how to flatter powerful men, though the woman at Skinchanger’s side looked unimpressed. Elena made her way over to the chests and pretended to think about which she wanted. She looked at each one on its own, letting her fingers trail over the wooden surfaces. Finally, she came to the one she wanted—it was smaller than the others, though by no means tiny. A bit shabby around the edges. Exactly what she was looking for.

Elena turned back to the dais and soft smile on her face, “I would like this one, my lord. If it pleases you.”

The Thane raised his chalice towards her and nodded, “and it shall be yours, as soon as you submit proof to the Elder Women that you have been claimed by a member of this Clan.”

Elena glanced back at Cullen, who sat rigidly just a few feet from her, hands curled into fists at the Thane’s demands. She turned her gaze back to the man in front of her and nodded, though her heart was hammering in her chest at his suggestion. She had been trying not to think about this all day—Cullen and Rosalie had been vague about what “examine” and “submit proof” meant, though Cullen had reassured her that everything would be fine.

“My lord, I am a stranger to your ways, I beg of you to tell me how I must do this.”

The Thane snapped his fingers, and six women all past the age of child-bearing rose from the crowd. “You may use my bedchambers.”

The older women flocked to Elena, grabbing her arms and pulling her out of the hall. Despite herself, despite not wanting to give the Thane the benefit of her fear, she could feel her eyes go wide; her feet wouldn’t properly function and the women had to half carry, half drag her away. She glanced back, desperate, and found Cullen in the crowd. He looked stricken, though he tried to give her a reassuring smile.

She was shuttled past the wall partition behind the throne, down a long hallway to the very end of the building. One of the women opened the door, and they burst into a richly adorned bedroom. Heavy cloth covered the walls, and thick carpets kept the stone floors warm. There were shiny knick-knacks and baubles cluttering nearly every surface, but the space itself was dominated by a massive, intricately carved wooden bed.

“On to the bed, my girl,” a woman to Elena’s right said, not unkindly.

With shaking knees, Elena clambered onto the high mattress, though she needed to hop a little to reach. She lay back against the silk encased pillows, her hands gripped tightly together so they wouldn’t see her shaking.

“Now roll around a bit,” the same woman instructed. “And muss your hair.”

Puzzled, Elena complied, ruffling the thick coverlet and rocking back and forth.

“Hopefully that will satisfy the old windbag,” one of the women–the youngest looking of the group with thick black hair shot through with silver–muttered.

At Elena’s surprised look, the women broke out laughing.

“Oh, you sweet summer child, did you really think we were going to make you go through something like that?” The one with long, snow white hair, who seemed to be in charge, asked.

Another one reached forward to pat her cheek, “oh, you poor thing. No, we were all rather horrified when Skinchanger demanded such an archaic ritual. We wouldn’t have done it regardless, though your man was very polite in suggesting that we spare you such an indignity.”

Elena pushed herself up on her elbows, “Cullen asked you not to, um, examine me?”

They all tittered at that.

“Well considering how attentive he’s been to you all night, even if you  _haven’t_ been properly claimed, it’s only a matter of time.”

Elena blushed—though she could find no lie in their words. Hadn’t she been ready, just a moment ago, to tell Cullen that she wanted him? That desire had only increased as she realized what he must have done for her.

The chamber door burst open, and the blond woman who had been seated next to Skinchanger barged in.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Lady Meredith,” the women said in unison, inclining their heads.

Meredith crossed her arms and glared, “the Thane is not a patient man.”

The white-haired woman stepped forward, “She’s been claimed. Tell  _Thane_ Skinchanger that this woman has adequately demonstrated her status.”

“Bring her back into the hall then.  _You_  can tell him yourselves.” With that, Meredith turned on her heel and left the room.

The women around Elena shook their heads and muttered once Meredith was out of earshot.

“Who is she?” Elena finally asked as she hopped down from the bed.

“That’s Skinchanger’s wife, Meredith, Lady of Clan Red Lion. But she used to be married to the previous Thane. He took her to wife right before he died, in fact, about a year after his first wife had died while hiking up the nearby mountains,” the black haired woman finally answered her, her voice clipped.

“Oh.” Elena felt like there was something she wasn’t getting, but she didn’t have time to ask more questions as they shuffled her back down the hallway and into the main hall.

They stood before the Thane’s throne, the Elder Women around her in a protective knot. She could feel everyone in the hold watching them, but she resisted the urge to look around, or to seek out Cullen’s face among the crowd. Skinchanger glanced at his wife, noting her scowl, and stood.

“Elder Women of Clan Red Lion, have you deliberated on the task set before you?” He demanded.

The white-haired woman stepped forward and inclined her head towards him, “We have, my lord. We find that Elena, Lady of the Lowlanders, has adequately submitted proof that she is a claimed woman. She names Cullen Ar Mara Red Lion as her man. We proclaim that it is anathema for any other in this hold attempt to take her.”

Amidst the cheering and banging of mugs on the wooden tables, Elena was ushered back to her seat. Gratefully, she sunk back into Cullen’s welcome arms, situating herself once again squarely in his lap. He held her close, his lips nuzzling against her neck.

“Didn’t I promise everything would be well?” He whispered into her ear.

Before she could reply to him, Skinchanger once again called for silence.

“My good people, in light of his  _joyous_  announcement, I wish to make an announcement myself,” he paused, waiting for everyone to turn their attention to him. When he spoke again, Skinchanger looked straight to where Elena and Cullen were seated, and she felt as if she’d been plunged into ice water at his words–the sent a horrible, creeping feeling against her skin.

 “Clan Red Lion will raid Clan Swift Fox. All warriors will leave the Hold tonight! Immediately! We will travel under darkness, rest and prepare during the day and attack tomorrow night at high moon! Arise, Avvar! Hakkon calls you once more!”


	6. Chapter 6

The hall erupted with a flurry of activity—many cheered or banged their mugs against the low-lying tables while a select few began to argue, voices raised in anger over the din of the crowd. Before she knew what was happening, Cullen had shepherded the three women back to their cabin, Krem following behind and carrying the chest Elena had chosen from the Thane

“Krem, I want you to stay here and watch the house. I don’t trust Skinchanger or his  _wife_  to leave well enough alone while I’m gone,” Cullen barked, throwing open a chest that he had hauled in from one of the backrooms.

Around her, Mia and Rosalie were bustling, gathering supplies and fortifying the different windows and doors to the building. Elena stood, hand resting on the table, unsure what she was supposed to do. She watched as Cullen pulled off the vest he usually wore and began buckling on leather armor that covered his stomach and chest.

“Help me with this, lass, will you?” he snapped.

Elena jumped to his side and began helping him with the pauldrons and vambraces, her smaller, fingers more nimble with the laces that he was.

“Cullen, what’s going on?” She asked, voice low as she switched to the other arm. “A raid? What does that mean?”

_What did it mean to go on a raid? Was he leaving for long? What if he didn’t come back?_ The last thought made her stop short, her breath hissing out of her lungs as if a hammer had slammed into her chest. He couldn’t go. Not before she could give herself to him. She needed to–both out of desire to keep herself safe from Skinchanger and out of desire for  _him_.

He paused from lacing up a pair of fur-lined leather greaves as if sensing her sudden panic and cupped her face between his hands. His thumbs brushed across her cheek, swiping away the tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

“None of that, lass,” he spoke softly, his face tipped close to hers. “I’ll be fine. I’m the best warrior in the hold. I’ll come back to you.”

She stared into his warm golden eyes and nodded, trying her best to stem the rush of anxiety and fear welling up in her chest.

“It’s just that I wanted…tonight…I was going to—” she stumbled, trying her best to put that she wanted  _him_  into words.

Frustrated with herself, Elena shook her head and, throwing her arms around his neck, pulled him down for a scorching kiss. Standing on the very tips of her toes, she arched into him, pressing her body flush against his. Cullen groaned, his fingers curling around her face with bruising fierceness as he kissed her back, his lips parting against hers.

The shattering blast of a war horn sounded throughout the village, and Cullen broke their kiss, turning to look towards the door, swearing softly under his breath. He turned back to her, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ll come back to you, lass.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the tip of her nose, “I promise. Now help me with the rest of this armor.”

She nodded, stepping away to help him fasten a large, two-handed sword to his back. Mia and Rosalie returned from the backrooms just in time for Cullen to pull out a snarling helm in the shape of a lion’s head. Rose gasped, while Mia raised her eyebrow.

“Do you really think it wise to wear that, brother?” Mia asked.

Cullen scowled at her. “At least no one will be able to say they didn’t know who I was.”

And with that he was across the room and gone.

Mia shook her head, and muttered something about Cullen being a fool under her breath. Elena frowned, unsure why it was wrong of him to wear the helmet. Before she could ask, however, Mia motioned her up the ladder to the room she had shared with Cullen.

“Up to bed now, miss. We’ll all sleep in the same bed until the warriors come back—it’s safer that way.”

Elena nodded and scrambled up the ladder, with Rosalie fast behind her. Below, she could hear Mia giving Krem some directions.

She turned to Cullen’s younger sister, who had begun to take off her outer clothing.

“What was that about? With the helmet, I mean?” she asked, keeping her voice low to avoid Mia’s hearing.

Rosalie shrugged off her dress and began untangling her hair from the intricate braids she wore it in; there was a frown on her face, but when she caught Elena’s eye she smiled.

“The helmet belonged to our Da and his before. It’s supposed to be passed from Thane to Thane, but when Da died, Cullen refused to give it up,” she paused, a shadow crossing over her face. “It’s still a sore point between him and Skinchanger.”

Elena felt her mouth fall open ever so slightly as she took in Rosalie’s words. “Wait, your father was the previous Thane? Doesn’t that mean—“

“Yes,” the other girl said, nodding gravely. “Cullen should be Thane, but he was too young when…when  _it_  happened.”

Elena didn’t know what to say; except now it seemed so many more things made sense, things people had said in passing that had seemed so puzzling at first. Her eyes widened. 

“But Maker’s breath! That means, Lady Meredith—”

“Yes,” Mia said, voice devoid of emotion as she appeared at the top of the ladder. “Lady Meredith was our foster mother for a year before our father was killed. Now, enough of this talk, it’s time for bed.”

Elena nodded, not daring to disobey Mia, and quickly shimmied out of all her clothes but her shift while Rose helped Mia pull the ladder up into the room. As she laid down, Elena ended up between the two of them, Mia with her back to her and Rosalie curled into Elena’s chest. As much as she tried to sleep, her mind was racing. Cullen should be Thane—which, of course, now that she knew it, it seemed painfully obvious based on what he had told her of his birthright and the way Skinchanger had been acting since she arrived. Even more starling than that revelation, was the suggestion that previous Thane had been murdered. Oh, no one would say it aloud, but the way Mia had said their father had been  _killed_ and the way the Elder Women had spoken of Lady Meredith made Elena certain foul play had been involved.

And now Cullen was marching off to battle with the very man who might have killed his father, a man whose political position was threatened by Cullen’s very existence.

~*~

The men were gone for a day, then three days, then a week and with each passing hour, Elena grew more anxious for their return. Rosalie and Mia kept her occupied as best they could with teaching her the way of life in the hold. Her hands grew more rough and calloused as she learned how to wash and cook, how to spin fiber into wool and how to weave that wool into fabric. It was hard work, and learning certainly helped her focus on something besides the insidious thought that she’d seen Cullen’s handsome grin for the last time.

But maybe…maybe that would be good for her? If Cullen were gone—the thought made her feel oddly numb—but if he  _were_  gone, wouldn’t the hold have no need of her? Perhaps, if she promised to let them have her things, she would be sent home. Wasn’t that what she should want? She should want it, she  _had_  wanted it—not Cullen’s death, of course, but to be sent home—when she’d first been taken, but now, now she wasn’t so sure.

Elena sat quietly outside the house, Krem leaning against the wall, watching to make sure no one bothered her as she embroidered a shirt for Cullen. Embroidery was the one skill she possessed that seemed to impress Mia and Rosalie. It was something she’d been taught since she could hold a needle, something Orlesian ladies did to keep their hands busy—and away from the gambling tables—while they gossiped and schemed. The two sisters had been quite surprised when Elena showed them her skill.

_“Is there anything you’re good at, or like doing?”Mia asked, not unkindly, but rather, trying to find a point of reference between them._

_It was the morning after the men had left for the raid, and Mia was very firm that they should go about their day as if it was business as usual. Elena paused trying to think of something among her many accomplishments—dancing, playing the harpsichord, gambling, flirting—that would be useful to Mia._

_“I can embroider,” she said, brightening as she alighted on something to make the elder sister pleased with her. “Here, I’ll show you. Where’s the chest I chose last night?”_

Elena finished the delicate looping around the hem of the shirt, smiling to herself. She had chosen that chest for a reason—it held her most valuable possessions: a nearly empty journal, quill, ink, and ivory-handled book knife, her set of gold embroidery needles, thimble, and spools of thread, her silver hairbrush, cosmetics, and her jewelry.

_Mia and Rosalie watched, enthralled it seemed, as Elena pulled treasure after treasure out of the chest. There was an audible gasp behind her when she opened the lid to her jewelry box. She paused, an idea suddenly striking her. She shifted around in the baubles, until she found what she was looking for._

_She turned around and offered a set of boar’s tusks bracelets edged with gold. “Mia, I want you to have these, you’ve been so kind to me, and I think these would look lovely on you.”_

_Mia stared, completely taken aback. “I couldn’t possibly-”_

_“Please?” Elena prompted, slipping the bangles around the other woman’s wrist._

_She turned to the younger sister, whose mouth was open in shock. “And Rose, you should have this.”_

_She offered her a gold necklace, a pink gemstone hanging from an intricately filigreed pendant. “Rosalite, like your name.”_

_Rosalie squealed and threw her arms around Elena’s neck in a fierce embrace._

Elena moved on to the sleeve cuffs, listening carefully to the bustle of the hold around her. The warriors were gone, of course, save for a token few who stayed behind to offer a show of defense, but the women and children of Red Lion Hold were still very busy with day to day living. She glanced up at the treeline on the outskirts of the village. It had been a week and still no word of the raid. Mia and Rosalie told her not worry, that raids usually took a while—the men took longer to return burdened as they would be with spoils of conquest. But Elena could see that the worry in the Avvar women’s eyes grew with each passing day.

Suddenly a loud blast filled the clearing. Elena’s head jerked up, her eyes searching for the source of the sound. A moment later, Rosalie slammed the front door open, a wide grin on her face. The other girl grabbed Elena’s hand, pulling her up from the bench.

“They’re back! That’s the lookout—one blast for approaching clan members! Let’s go greet them!” She exclaimed, breathless, before she took off running, dragging Elena in her wake.

They ran towards the treeline just as a band of men stepped into the clearing. She spied Skinchanger at the head of the band, a stormy expression on his face. Elena strained, examining each man, looking for Cullen. She ached to see his handsome face again—despite herself, despite the fact that she knew she shouldn’t, she had to know that he he was alright.

Another group of men stepped out from the treeline, and for a moment Elena thought she was seeing doubles, as two Cullen’s stepped forward. 

“Branson!” Rosalie shouted, rushing forward to greet both her brothers.

Elena hung back, realization hitting her as the men approached. Cullen limped next to his brother, one arm slung around the other’ man’s shoulder. He had a bandage around his head, and was pressing his hand to his side.

“Cullen?” She asked, unsure even how conscious he was.

They were close enough now that he heard her soft voice, his warm golden eyes flicking open to meet her gaze. He gave her a weary smile.

“I told you I’d returned, didn’t I, lass?” He rasped, moments before the color drained from his face, and he stumbled, leaning heavily against Branson.

“What happened?” Rose hissed.

Branson glanced towards the front of their party, shaking his head. “Let’s get him inside. I’ll explain later.”


	7. Chapter 7

Elena quickly followed Roselie and Branson as they half-walked, half-carried Cullen into the house; Krem threw open the door for them as they approached, a curse on his lips when he saw Cullen’s blanched face. Mia’s eyes went wide where she stood at the kitchen table, but she recovered herself swiftly and began clearing off the surface.

“Elena, go fetch the healer,” the elder sister snapped. “Branson, lay him down.”

Elena nodded, practically tripping over her feet to reach the door.

“No,” Cullen ordered, gasping as he eased onto the table. “Skinchanger will keep Axel occupied, ah…” he paused, his hand pressed hard his side, “there’s no point in, in sending her.”

Mia pursed her lips, but didn’t reissue her order. “What in the name of Haakon’s axe happened?”

By now Rosalie had begun boiling water and gathering bandages while Mia and Branson helped Cullen remove the armor on his upper body. Elena stood against the wall, twisting a lock of hair through her fingers. She didn’t know what to do,  _if_  she should do anything, but she wanted to help, desperately. The sight of Cullen, half conscious, and gnashing his teeth in pain was awful—all she wanted to do was go to him, give him some sort of comfort, but she didn’t want to get in Mia’s way.

Branson shook his head as Cullen lay flat on the table, his legs hanging off the edge at the knees. With his armor off, Elena could see a deep gash in his side, surrounded by purple, bruised skin. Mia had removed the old bandages on his head, revealing a long cut running from just above his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose and down his left cheek. Luckily, his eyes were untouched.

“My band came upon the raiding party the day before they were set to attack,” Branson began, holding his brother down as Mia washed the wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag. “Skinchanger was none too pleased to see us, but there wasn’t much he could do—we’re all still Red-Lions.”

Elena watched, a frown creasing her brow, as Cullen writhed under Mia’s ministrations, but he bore the pain without a sound. The tale Branson told was already ominous, and it made Elena’s stomach clench in fear to think what he might say next.

“It was decided that Cullen and I would lead our men around the back of Fox Hold, while Skinchanger assaulted the front,” Branson shook his head again. “It was like they knew to expect us. If I hadn’t joined last minute, I don’t think Cullen or his men would have made it. We were surrounded, cornered, and Skinchanger took his sweet time coming to our aid. They all went for Cullen. By the time I got to his side, there were ten dead Foxes on the ground, and half as many still fighting.”

Elena listened to his words as she watched Mia’s careful work, a small part of her was impressed by the thought of Cullen fighting through a swath of so many enemies, though horror and bile rose in her throat at Branson’s words. No one would say it, but the Thane of Red-Lion hold had tried to kill Cullen. _The thought of him dead_ —no, it wasn’t fair of her to think those things, to show her fear and anxiety at the thought. These were his siblings, if anyone should be horrorstricken at the idea, if anyone was allowed to cry, it was them.

She needed to be strong and figure out a way to stop Skinchanger.

As Mia cleaned the sweat, blood, and dirt from Cullen’s side, a pattern of red lines webbing just below the skin began to appear. Elena bit her lip.

“Rosalie, get me the elfroot salve,” Mia ordered.

“Wait!” Elena called, lurching forward from where she had been standing. “No, you can’t!”

They all turned to face her, surprised at her outburst, and it seemed that for the moment at least, they had forgotten she was there. Elena almost felt guilty for breaking into their family circle, but she couldn’t  _not_  say anything.

“What in the Lady’s name are you on about, Lowlander?” Branson snapped.

“Look at the injury!” She insisted. “He’s got blood poisoning—if you put plain elfroot salve on it, he’ll die!”

Mia and Branson paused, looking down at Cullen’s side, before looking back at each other. Elena could practically see them share their thoughts in the space between them.

Mia glared, “how do you know that?”

Elena raised her chin, spine stiffening under the other woman’s withering glare. She would not back down on this. “My brother, Henry, is a chevalier—his battalion was sent to into battle during the Orlesian Civil War. When he was injured, I visited him in the infirmary…I’ve seen injuries like this before. You need crystal grace and dawn lotus.”

For a moment the image of her eldest brother flashed before her eyes–tall and broad with hair like fire. She remembered how small he had looked, lying in the infirmary bed with so many dead and dying around him. 

Elena felt the brunt of Mia’s piercing gaze, but after a moment, the other woman nodded. “Rose, do as she says.”

The heavy tension in the room eased slightly as they all returned to work. Elena glanced down at Cullen; despite the fact that he looked utterly exhausted, and his skin was still an alarming pallor, he gave her a weak smile. She smiled back shyly, before following Rosalie outside to the side of the cabin where a small garden was plotted. Though the majority of the soil was taken up with vegetables, there was a small corner under the window that held more exotic herbs and flowers. Kneeling in the black earth, he two women set to work, picking through to find the best petals and roots. They worked in silence, though every once and again their hands would brush.

As they stood to return to the house, a woman dressed in the plain roughspun dress of a servant approached them. It looked like she had come from the direction of the Thane’s Hall. Just seeing her made apprehension curl in Elena’s stomach, and from the look on Rosalie’s face, the other girl was feeling the same way.

“Lady Meredith would speak to the Lowlander,” she said in clipped tones.

Elena glanced at Rosalie, trepidation plain in her expression—she did not want to leave Cullen, not when she didn’t know how she would find him when she returned. Besides her, Rose looked nervous, almost scared by the summons.

“You should go,” the other girl whispered, squeezing her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell the others.”

Elena nodded, mouth dry, and with a backwards glance at the cabin, followed the maidservant to the Thane’s Hall.

Lady Meredith reminded Elena of Empress Celene in a way—there was a coldness to her beauty that lurked in her eyes and made anyone who saw ever so slightly uneasy. Elena stood in the doorway of the lady’s solar near the back of the Thane’s Hall. Meredith was seated at a small table, looking out over the back fields of village. The elder woman looked up after a moment and smiled; it was a cold thing that did not reach her eyes.

“Lady Elena, is it? Please, sit,” she said, indicating the seat across from her.

After a moment of consideration, Elena did as she was told, and perched delicately on the edge of the wooden chair.

“Spiced wine?” Meredith said, indicating a bottle sitting between them.

“Please,” Elena nodded.

A cup was poured for her, and they both took a small sip. Pleasantries dispensed with, Meredith leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled under her chin, and fixed Elena with another piercing look.

“You have my sympathies, child. It cannot be easy to be taken into this life,” the other woman said after a pause.

Elena resisted the urge to raise her eyebrow. Sympathy was the last thing she had expected from Lady Meredith. In truth, she hadn’t known was to expect—threats, violence, to be delivered unwilling to the Thane’s bedchambers—certainly not this.

“Cullen and his family have been kind to me,” she finally said, unsure how else to answer.

Meredith smiled, “oh, no doubt. It was apparent to all how he doted on you at the feast. Though perhaps his sisters were not so eager for their brother’s affections to be so public.”

Elena said nothing to that. She thought, perhaps, Rosalie did not seem to mind her brother’s affections for the lowlander suddenly in their midst; in fact, Rose seemed to like her well enough. She was under no illusions, however, that Mia bore any similar feelings. Still, it felt disingenuous, somehow—a betrayal, even—to say so to Lady Meredith.

When it became apparent that she wasn’t going to answer, Meredith continued. “I was very sorry to hear about your man. My husband told me of his grievous injuries. Perhaps you are aware that Cullen was my foster son for a time?”

Elena was caught off guard; did Meredith think Cullen dead? “I—what do you mean, Lady Meredith?”

“Do you want to go home, child?”

 “What?” If she had thought she was caught off guard by the direction of Meredith’s conversation before, this was entirely foreign territory. “Home?”

Meredith nodded and pulled something out of the pocket of her dress. She set a small glass vial containing a clear, slightly shimmering liquid on the table and slid it over to stand next to Elena’s cup.

“It will relieve his pain. It must be excruciating, and I’m not without mercy, you know, despite what my foster children might have you think of me.” Meredith paused, making sure Elena understood the meaning behind her words. “Ease his burden, and I’ll see to it that you can go home.”

Elena stared at the vial, her hand hovering over it, Meredith’s words ringing in her ears.  _Do you want to go home?_

~*~

It was dusk by the time she reached Cullen’s cabin, and beautiful streaks of purple and pinks were arcing across the sky. Elena chewed on her bottom lip, Meredith’s words still ringing in her ears.  _Home_ , she could go home.

All she had to do was poison the man with whom she was sure a week ago she wanted to share her bed.  _The barbarian who captured you and ruined you for any civilized man._  She shook her head. No—Cullen may have taken her, but she certainly felt no loss from his touch. Elena didn’t feel  _ruined_.

Pushing the door open, she blinked hard, eyes adjusting to the gloom of the fire. Rosalie and Mia’s heads both swiveled towards her at the sound of her entrance from where they were conferencing near the hearth.

“Thank the Lady you’re back! And in one piece too!” Rose exclaimed. “We thought for sure Skinchanger was going to force himself on you.”

“Rosalie!” Mia snapped, scandalized at her sister’s indelicate words.

“Well, it’s true,” Rose retorted.

Elena shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “No. Lady Meredith only wished to speak to me. I did not see Thane Skinchanger.” She paused, unsure just how much of her interview she ought to divulge. “She thinks Cullen is dead, or nearly so. Please tell me she’s wrong?”

Before ether sister could answer her, Branson appeared from beyond the curtain to one of the backrooms. “Oh good, you’re back, lowlander. He’s been asking for you.”

Elena hurried across the room to the door but Branson blocked her way for a moment, his powerful arms folded across his chest. She stared up at him, arms crossed in an equally stubborn posture. From this distance, she could see the slight differences between him and Cullen—Branson had a smattering of freckles across his face, his curls were a shade or two darker, and his lips more full. If he ever smiled, she suspected he might have dimples.

“Let me pass,” she said, refusing to be intimidated by his considerable size. “Cullen asked for me.”

The other man stared down at her coolly for a moment before stepping aside. “He’s had a trying couple of days, lowlander. I won’t have you riling him up.”

Elena pushed past him and flung the heavy curtain aside, stepping into the room.

“Cullen!” she exclaimed at the sight of him propped up in the bed along the far wall, a blanket settled at his hips, though she could see clean white bandages wrapped around his torso.

At the sound of her voice, he cracked his golden eyes open, a crooked smile coming to his lips.

“Elena, lass, there you are,” he rasped.

As she flew across the room to his side, Elena was surprised by the fierceness of the relief that welled up inside her at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice. He patted the edge of the bed, and she gingerly seated herself, careful not to jostle him. Reaching out, she smoothed her hand down the side of his face, her fingers curling around the sharp angle of his jaw. All things considered, he looked much better already; his skin was once again flush and healthy, and she could see no hint of redness or inflammation around his side.

“How are you?” She murmured.

“I think I’ll live,” he said, though there was still some pain in his voice.

Elena let her hand slide down the stubbled skin of his neck to rest along his shoulder. She could barely believe that he was in front of her,  _alive_. Touching him was the only way she could convince herself that this was no dream. As she looked at him, took in his handsome face and warm, golden eyes, she was once again overwhelmed by the swell of emotion torrenting through her.

“You had better, or I shall be terribly cross with you,” she declared.

Cullen chuckled, although it was accompanied with a wince of pain.

“I cannot have that, mitt hjarta,” he murmured, cupping her face, his thumb smoothing over the curve of her cheek as his gaze met hers with an intense, earnest look. “Now come here, woman, and let me kiss you.”

With a smile, Elena obliged, leaning forward to press her lips to his. She sighed, eyes fluttering closed as she met the gentle firmness of his mouth. As they moved together, lips parting and noses brushing, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her down against his chest. Maker’s breath, she’d missed this—it had only been a week, but she’d missed this. The warm, musky scent of his skin mixed with the medicinal tang of dawn lotus and crystal grace; it filled her senses as she breathed him in. She felt his tongue press against her lips and she parted them willingly. Cullen deepened their kiss, his hand sliding from her cheek to tangle in her hair.

“Get in the bed,” he ordered against her lips. “I need to feel your body next to mine.”

Elena shook her head, pulling away slightly, though Cullen held her close. “I can’t. Your brother will kill me. He said not to rile you u—mmmh!”

Cullen cut her off with another fierce kiss, his lips firm and commanding as they slotted against hers. Desire shot through her, burning a line straight from her mouth to settle deep in her belly.

“He won’t touch a hair on your head. Now do as I say,” Cullen growled, and Elena could feel the rumbling deep in his chest where her hands rested against his hard muscles.

Carefully and never breaking the contact of her lips on his for long, she maneuvered to the other side of the bed, her thighs briefly straddling his lap as she moved to settled against his good side.

“Good girl,” he murmured, caging her face between both of his hands as he turned slightly to her.

He stared at her a moment, eyes drinking in the angles of her face before he slowly leaned forward. Cullen’s full, lush lips brushed ever so gently against her eyelids, down the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks, alternating back and forth. He pressed kisses to the corners of her mouth, before he took her bottom lip between his own, nibbling gently. Each sweep of his mouth sent near painful arcs of pleasure shooting over her skin and causing her breath to hitch. Elena’s heart was shuddering in her chest, as dampness pooled between her legs, and she was sure he could feel it. She was accustomed to his touching being ardent and desperate and hard, but this, this was something else entirely.

“You saved my life, lass,” he whispered as he pressed another gossamer kiss to her lips. “Do you still want to give yourself to me?”

Desire crashed over her, ripping through her at his words, and all she wanted was to feel him inside of her, filling her,  _claiming_  her.

“Yes,” her voice was a desperate whisper, dripping with need.

Before he could say anything, she scrambled to straddle him, her skirts rucking up around her hips as her bare legs kissed his naked thighs, the warm wetness of her core pressing against him. She was ready; she had been ready a week ago. Elena reached for him, but Cullen stopped her, pulling her hand away to press against his lips.

“Elena, lass, stop,” he said with a low laugh, though his gaze was heated. “As much as it pains me to say, I can’t take you in my current state–well, not the way I would like. And I would very much like you enjoy yourself when I do,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear and leaving a trail of fire against her skin in his wake.

Elena froze, a flush burning over her cheeks. O _f course, he was injured._ Though he seemed to be healing quickly, surely he was in no state to make love. She was terribly embarrassed at how wanton she had been–her father would be scandalized at the thought of his daughter scrambling atop a man’s thighs, wet and wanting like a common whore.

“Maker’s breath, Cullen, I’m sorry,” she said, hiding her face between her hands–she didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she had been painfully inconsiderate or the eagerness of her behavior.

She heard him chuckle again, as he very gently pried her fingers from her face to hold them between his own warm hands. “It’s alright, lass. There’s nothing wrong with letting a man know you want him.”

Wasn’t there, though? Weren’t women supposed to run and demure and _lie back and think of Ferelden_? Cullen certainly didn’t think so, apparently. 

Still rather embarrass, Elena clambered off of him, “I should let you rest.”

As she turned to go, he caught her hand, pulling her back to his side. 

“Sleep next to me tonight?” The tenderness in his voice, in his gaze, spread warmth through her chest all the way down her body to the tips of her toes and fingers. 

She smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the "whore" comment. Elena's got some issues when it comes to sex and sexuality (which is why she likes it when Cullen is aggressive shhhhhh).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: assault and violence

Cullen healed quickly over the next two days thanks to Mia’s medical skills and, by the second day, he was able to move back to their on the second floor. Yet he avoided leaving the house and urged his family to carry on as if he were at death’s door. The longer Thane Skinchanger thought him grievously injured, the better, he argued, as it would keep the elder man placated, secure in the knowledge that Cullen and his siblings had been dealt a devastating blow. Word had spread throughout the hold that there would be yet another feast to celebrate the raid’s success three days from the warriors’ arrival back at the village. Cullen wanted to keep his recovery secret until that time.

“Another feast?” Elena had asked, surprised that Skinchanger was so cavalier with the hold’s food resources—from what she could tell, almost everyone in the village was living at the subsistence level, or nearly so.

Branson just shook his head in disgust, but Mia fixed Elena with a look, though it was the other woman’s words that had left her feeling cold and sick to her stomach.

“Aye, our Thane enjoys reminding the Hold that it is at his pleasure that we survive.”

When she wasn’t helping Mia and Rosalie with housework, Elena sat with Cullen. She enjoyed running her fingers through his hair, or re-plaiting the braids that hung down his neck. They talked quietly for hours as he entreated her to tell him stories from her childhood and adolescence. She described the glittering towers of Val Royeaux and the massive white marble sea-walls of Ostwick to him, told him tales of ancient heroes—Drakon, Calenhad, of Andraste and Maferath and the Maker. She told him of her brothers—the twins, Henry and William, of her cousins in Ostwick and Orlais, of her indomitable Grandmama, the Duchess of Claremont. She wove tapestries with her words of the hedonistic opulence of Halamshiral, of the scandal and bitter civil war between Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard. He would smile and listen, and ask her a dizzying litany of questions whenever she paused for breath.

The day of the feast arrived and the tensions inside the house were palpable—they all wondered how Skinchanger would react to being duped, and secretly, Elena worried what Meredith would do when she realized Elena hadn’t done as she asked. Would she wonder what had happened to the little vial of poison? Would she demand it back? Ransack their house? It was currently hidden in her chest, though surely that wasn’t a particularly safe hiding spot. 

As Cullen was downstairs planning with his siblings the best way to make their entrance at the Thane’s Hall that evening, Elena sat upstairs, bathing. It was impossible for all of them to use the large metal tub, so she had hauled a smaller washbasin up the ladder and sat a wooden chair in the middle of it. Wrapped in a white linen sheet—nervous on the off chance that Branson would need to come upstairs—she sat and washed herself with a sponge.

She had just finished rinsing the soap from her hair when she heard the rungs of the ladder creak. Elena froze, comb in hand, as she waited to see who would appear through the opening. After a moment, Cullen’s golden curls came into view, followed by his warm hunger filled gaze. He smiled, his eyes raking over her form, and she realized belatedly that the linen sheet, now wet, did nothing to hide the curves of her body.

Without a word, Cullen stood over her, his broad shoulders and powerful chest blocking out most of the light from the window. Leaning down, he cupped her chin in one large hand, his eyes caressing the curve of her lips before he lowered his mouth to hers. She sighed and smiled against his kiss, basking in the heat that radiated out from him. Elena wrapped her arms around his neck and slowly stood as he straightened up, one iron-strong arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her bodily against him. The sheet slipped from her upper body, only to pool around her hips. With a growl, Cullen reached down and tore it away so that her wet, naked skin pressed against every hard inch of him. Brushing his tongue across her plump lower lip, he deepened their kiss, and lifted her out of the tub.

His hands were everywhere as he backed her up against the far wall, sending trills of desire throughout her body as he stroked her breasts, his large hands skimming along her waist, squeezing her rear and slipping between her legs to rub her with calloused fingers.

“Cullen,” she gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, as his thumb brushed over her nipple, making the wet heat between her legs ache with want of him.

He pulled away only enough to look at her, and leaned on one powerful forearm above her head. Her breath hitched in her throat as he stroked her face, tracing his thumb along the sharp line of her cheek, down her jaw, to brush along her lower lip. She parted her mouth, his thumb pressing against the opening, as she flicked her tongue over the pad of his finger.

“By the Mountain Father, lass, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmured, voice husky and low.

Elena blushed at his words, but held his gaze as he dragged his thumb down her bottom lip, to grip her chin again, holding her in place so that their eyes were locked.

“If you wish it, tonight after the feast I’m going to take you back here and make love to you,” he promised, the warmth of his breath fanning over her kiss swollen lips. “I’m going to slide between those soft, pale thighs of yours, into that sweet, wet sheath and make you my woman once and for all. Would you like that, mitt hjärta?”

Elena felt fire coursing through her at his words, a lush unfurling of pleasure aching between her legs. He bent his head, capturing her lower lip between his own and sucked. She moaned, arching her body against him, her too tight nipples rubbing deliciously against the soft golden hair on his chest.

“Would you like a little taste of tonight, sweetling?” he purred against her mouth.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. With nothing but a smirk and a mischievous flash in his eyes, Cullen sank down before her, his massive hands cradling her hips, smoothing back to grip her rear, his fingers kneading the flesh before he stroked the back of her thighs, his fingertips trailing fire in his wake. Making sure she was steady against the wall, he lifted one of her legs and pulled it over his shoulder, opening her wet, warm entrance to him.

Elena gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth as he looked at her with such intense longing she thought she might come undone with from his gaze alone. Slowly, he closed his eyes and nuzzled the inside of her thigh, brushing kisses against her soft skin as the rasp of his stubble sent trills of desire shooting up her leg. He flicked those honey eyes up to her, and her breath caught in her throat as he smirked through the frame of her legs. Slowly, never breaking the lock of his gaze, he trailed a string of kisses up her thigh, until his lips hovered over her entrance.

“So wet for me already, lass, and I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered, his breath, hot and needy, fanning over her, making her hips jerked of their own accord.

Cullen rocked forward, brushing the softest whisper of a kiss against her silken folds though she was certain the heat of his mouth would be burned on her for all eternity, marking her most intimate places as his. Elena whimpered, knees shaking; if it was not for his strong hand at her hip anchoring her to the wooden wall at her back, she would have sunk to the floor.

“I’ve been thinking about this,  _imagining it_ , since the moment I tasted you, lass,” he breathed, lips a hair’s breadth from her oversensitive skin, “and I do so love the way you taste.”

Cullen pressed his face between her legs, nuzzling against her. She shuddered, the tight aching need in her belly indescribably insistent as his nose brushed her pearl. What in the Maker’s name was he doing? Did men touch women like this? She’d certainly never heard of such a thing. But still, Elena couldn’t deny she enjoyed his attentions.

A moan shuddered out of her, making her very toes curl as Cullen began to lick firm, broad strokes of his tongue along the length of her slit. He was slow at first, allowing her to become accustomed to the sweet feeling he brought. Lowering her hands, Elena hesitantly rested her palms on his board shoulders, the twin feelings of his muscles bunching under her touch and the way he lapped at her sending heat spiraling to her core. Cullen quickened his pace, his tongue flicking up to lavish attention on her pearl. She gasped as he nibbled on the bundle of nerves, before rolling it between his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Head thrown back, she closed her eyes, a shudder tearing through her as his brought his hand to her folds, stroking and rubbing her before sinking one calloused finger into her soaking entrance.

Elena moaned, the low sounds trailing to a whimper as she slid her fingers into his golden curls, her hips rolling against his face in desperation for the pleasure he was giving her.

“Cullen,” his name dripped from her lips, as he replaced his finger with his tongue, spearing into her wet heat, lapping down the sweet nectar between her thighs.

Arching her back, she gripped his hair tight, fire welling up inside of her. He read her body in an instant and slipped two thick fingers into her heat, his mouth dragging back up her lush folds to fasten around her pearl. Cullen thrust in, scissoring his fingers as his tongue flicked and sucked her clit, and with a sob of his name, the fire in her swelled to a crescendo, burning away everything but the searing heat of his mouth and hands on her body. She writhed against him, her legs simultaneously shaking and clamping tight around his head. When she finally came back to her senses, she had slumped to the floor and Cullen was lying with his head in her lap, nuzzling her thighs and stomach. Bringing a shaking hand to his face she gently carded her fingers through his hair, a sated smile on her lips.

Cullen lifted his head and gave her a dazzling, self-satisfied smile. “Enjoy yourself, lass?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He leaned forward, cupping her jaw in one large hand.

“Good,” he purred before pressing a firm, hungry kiss to her lips; she could taste herself in his mouth and it was almost enough to make her haul him over her and wrap her legs around his waist. Elena could feel his resolve to wait crumble as he shifted between her legs, the hard length of his cock insistent and unmistakable against her naked body.

But before she could act on her desires, Mia called her from below asking after the tub. With a heavy sigh Cullen broke their kiss, his hand still cradling her face as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Sometimes I swear the Gods themselves are trying to keep me from claiming you, lass,” he said with a sardonic smile.

She laughed as he clambered off of her, and held a hand out to help her stand.

~*~

The air was heavy with smoke and chatter as they made their way towards the Thane’s Hall. Elena could smell roasting meat as well as the tang of alcohol. They were late to the feast, the last in the Hold to arrive, just as Cullen had planned. Branson swung the heavy wooden doors open and sauntered in with Mia and Rosalie quickly following. The chatter in the room beyond hushed and, after waiting a beat, Cullen slipped his arm tight around Elena’s waist, his large hand curving protectively across her hip, and led them into the cavernous room.

Only the crackle of the fire and the rustle of Elena’s red silk skirts—a gift from Cullen out of the spoils of the raid—were audible in the hall as everyone stared at the man they all thought to be dying. Jaw clenched and stride purposeful, Cullen steered them towards his spot at the right hand side of the dais. Much to her dismay—and his if the nearly imperceptive intake of breath was any indication—Skinchanger was not seated on his great throne. Only Lady Meredith was at the dais, and the look she gave Elena was downright glacial. Clearly the woman realized Elena hadn’t gone along with her plan to poison Cullen and knew that she was currently in possession of Meredith’s vial of poison. She could almost see the older woman’s mind spinning, trying to discern if Elena had told anyone of her offer.

As they sat, the rest of the guests slowly began to go back to feasting, eating the rich foods with abandon and drinking to excess. Elena spoke with Mia and Rosalie while she ate, painfully aware of the tension rolling off of Cullen—he was nervous, no doubt, wondering where Skinchanger was, and what he might be up to. He picked at his food, barely eating anything. After half an hour of watching him, Elena finally pulled a chunk of meat from the platter and held it to him.

“Cullen, eat, please. Don’t let them think there’s anything wrong,” she said, her voice as low as it could be in the din of the hall.

Truth be told, she was still rather worried about him being completely healed; he needed to keep up his strength, and though it was obvious that he was _better_  she doubted even a man as strong as him could be fully healed after only a handful of days.

Cullen regarded her with that deep golden gaze of his before inclining his head and taking the food from her fingers, his tongue flicking against her fingertips as he did so. She smiled and continued to feed him as he had done for her, enjoying the rasp of his tongue over her skin and the playful nip of his teeth. As they ate, musicians entered the hall and people began to dance around the central fire pits.

At her other side Rosalie rose and grabbed her hand, plucking her right out of Cullen’s grasp.

“Dance with me, sister!”

Elena beamed and, kissing Cullen on the cheek, followed Rose out to the center of the room. The dance consisted of a lot of twirling and stamping, kicking and clapping hands together. Elena followed Rosalie’s direction as best she could, laughing often when she made a mistake. The dance seemed to be just for women, though Elena could feel Cullen’s hungry gaze on her as she wove her way around the room.

“Are our dances very similar to yours?” Rose asked, voice breathless from exertion.

Elena shook her head. “No. The ones where I come from are much more, hmmm, controlled? I suppose that’s the best word for it. I could show you one if you like.”

When Rose nodded, Elena pulled her off to the side and lifted her skirts high enough to show her feet. A few whistles sounded in the hall at the sight of her bare legs. Elena ignored it with a shake of her head.  _Men_. 

“You sort of step in a square, like this,” she said, quickly demonstrating the steps. “But the man does it opposite and leads you around in a circle. It sounds quite foolish, but when it’s done right, it’s  _so_  romantic—you’ve got your arms around each other and it’s like the world disappears. Or so I’ve read,” she quickly amended. “I’ll be your man for the dance!”

Once Rosalie was confident in her steps Elena stepped forward, bowing low like she’d seen her brothers do.

“Alright, put your hand on my shoulder,” she instructed, placing one of her own hands on the other girl’s waist while clasping their free hands together. “Are you ready?”

“Of course!” the Avvar woman crowed. “Show me your stately Lowlander dance.”

“It’ll seem a bit odd since we’ve not the proper music, but…” without further comment, she pressed forward, mirroring her usual steps and leading the other girl around the room in an elegant circle. They made it about halfway around before they became a hopeless tangle of legs and skirts, nearly collapsing into a laughing heap on the ground.

“Oh bother, I’ve broken a lace,” Rose exclaimed, looking at one of the ribbons that crossed up the front of her gown.

Still laughing, Elena shook her head. “No matter. I’ll fetch you another from the house. I could use the air!” She grabbed her friend by the shoulders and gently pushed her back towards the tables. “Go eat! I’ll be but a moment!”

With that, Elena stumbled out of the hall, the cold night air shocking her into realizing just how much cider she had drank. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind. She wanted to be completely and totally aware when Cullen made love to her later that night. A thrill of pleasure shot through her at the thought—Maker’s breath, everything about that man screamed sex and power, and she wanted all of it, everything he had to give.

Suddenly, as she walked through the empty Hold, a dark shape loomed out at her from the darkness. Elena came up short, fear replacing the pleasant feelings running through her and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Cullen?” She called out hesitantly, though she was certain whoever this was, it wasn’t her man; still, she reasoned, the sound of his name might frighten any drunkard away.

“Lady Elena of the Lowlanders,” Skinchanger’s voice slithered over her through the darkness.

She froze, her blood chilling in her veins at his voice. Every single nerve in her body screamed at her to run back to the great hall and into Cullen’s strong arms, but even as she willed herself to do it, her legs simply wouldn’t move. Skinchanger stalked forward until he was mere inches from her. Grasping her chin in his hand, his grip bruising, he forced her to look at him. He reeked of alcohol and vomit and she understood why he hadn’t been at the feast beforehand.

“You’re a pretty little lass, to be sure,” he leered. “And that whelp was lucky to take you.”

Elena tried to kick him, but he easily sidestepped her foot, even in his drunken state. “Let go of me!”

“Feisty though; I still don’t believe you’ve let him claim you. Not that it matters either way. He’ll be dead by dawn and then you’ll want me there to put my hands on you.”  He sneered; Elena’s eyes went wide, of course he still thought Cullen nearly dead. “Do you imagine his siblings will keep you after he’s gone? That that hot-headed brother of his will take you to his bed? No, you need a man to shelter you. I could give you that shelter.”

“Die in a fire!” she snarled, trying to twist herself out of his grasp.

By now he had backed her up against one of the buildings and was using this body to hold her in place. She hated him in that instant, hated him more that she’d ever hated anything in her entire life. The stench of him was odious, the feeling of his body against hers made her skin crawl; she wanted nothing more than to claw his eyes out.

Instead of being angry at her retort, he laughed. “I like my lasses feisty. The harder the buck, the better the—”

Elena screamed as loud and as long as she could muster, praying to all the gods she’d ever run across of that it was enough to be heard over the din of the feasting in the Hall. Skinchanger slapped his hand over her mouth, stifling her cries.

“Shut it, woman!”

Elena bit down hard on his hand, securing the meaty flesh between his thumb and index finger between her teeth. The salty, coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth and the man holding her roared. Stars erupted across her vision as Elena tumbled to the ground, only feeling the explosion of pain break across her face a moment later.

“Ungrateful bitch!” Skinchanger spat, yanking her to her knees by a handful of her hair and pulling his fist back for another strike.

Behind them, a roar erupted in the night sky, cutting through the darkness as a blur of gold streaked across her vision, knocking the older man to the ground.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE!” Cullen thundered.

Elena scrambled back on her hands and knees as the two men tangled together, a writhing mass of fists and flesh. Behind her, more villagers spilled out of the hall and suddenly she was pulled up by strong arms and wrapped protectively in Mia’s embrace. Branson, Krem, and two other men rushed forward, restraining the fighters, though it was a close call that they too wouldn’t join the fray.

As he was pulled away, Cullen’s chest heaved and he spat at the ground. “If you ever touch her again I’ll kill you!”

Skinchanger sneered, “Next time you challenge me,  _boy_ , you’d better have a sword in your hand, because armed or not I’ll gut you from mouth to cock.”

Elena shivered at his words and turned her face into Mia while the other woman stroked her hair.

With one last baleful look at Skinchanger, Cullen wretched himself out of Branson and Krem’s grasp, marching over to where Elena huddled next to his sister. With the entire Hold looking on, he swung her up into his arms as easily as if she were a child, and marched off towards the house. She clung to him, one arm tight around his neck, her other hand pressed over his chest where she could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ribcage. His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed with fury. She’d never seen him so angry before and she wondered if it would make his love making desperate and demanding.

As they entered the front room, Cullen gently set her on the table, before grasping her chin in his hand and tiling her head towards the light. Elena flinched as his fingers tightened around the bruises Skinchanger had left along her jaw. Cullen froze, eyes wide in fury. Before either of them could say anything, the door burst open again and Mia, Rosalie, Branson and Krem rushed in.

“Move over, you big brute,” Mia chided, lightly pushing Cullen away and expertly tipped Elena’s chin up, careful to avoid her bruising.

The other woman’s eyes searched Elena’s face, her fingers brushing over her skin lightly enough that it didn’t hurt.  Elena studied the elder of Cullen’s sisters while she worked and was surprised by the emotions she saw flashing through the woman’s honey brown eyes: fury yes, but also compassion, and perhaps a dash of understanding.

“I don’t think anything is broken, thank the Lady, but you’ll have some pretty bruises and awful soreness. Cullen, hand me the dawn lotus salve.”

Cullen did as his sister bade, though Elena saw the scowl on his face for being ordered about. She wanted to smile, though truth be told she was still too shaken up to anything more than sit quietly and let Mia tend to her. The slather of dawn lotus on her skin was cool and did much to ease the aching pain throbbing across her face. From the path of Mia’s fingers, it seemed that Skinchanger had struck her square across the nose. After a moment, Mia paused and scratched at something along her chin.

“You’ve got blood on your face but I can’t see a cut,” she mused.

“Oh, that must be Skinchanger’s. I bit him.”

“You  _bit_  him?” Branson said behind them, shock apparent in his voice.

“Yes. He put his hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming, so I bit him. It’s why he hit me in the first place, I think.” Elena paused and made a face. “It was absolutely disgusting; I never want any part of that man in my mouth again.”

Her comment was met with some faint laughter outside her range of vision. A moment later, Cullen pressed a mug of whiskey into her hand.

“Drink up, lass. Burn the taste of him out of you,” he urged.

It was more than an hour before Mia was satisfied that she’d done all she could to ensure Elena’s face healed quickly and sent her off to bed. Before she could hop off the table, Cullen swept her up in one arm, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and carried her up the ladder, gently setting her on the bed. She could still feel the anger rolling off of him as she looked up to his face where he stood over her, but his eyes told a different story. Regret, perhaps, but something else as well. Cullen reached forward and stroked her cheek with his knuckles as gently as he could.

“I’m sorry, Elena. I never wanted this for you,” he whispered. 

She gave him a soft smile, “you saved me. Don’t apologize.”

Anguish flashed across his face, despite her words. 

“It’s my fault you were targeted to begin with. I took you, yet didn’t claim you properly. I flaunted you in front of him; I fanned his madness,” Cullen paused, and knelt before her on one knee, taking her hands between his own and meeting her gaze with a deep, earnest look. “I promise you, mitt hjärta, I will make him pay for what he’s done to you and he will  _never_  hurt you again. I promise by all my gods and yours that I will keep you safe, protect you, cherish you, and adore you for the rest of my life. If ever a need arises, I will give my life for yours. You have my pledge and my vow.”

Elena sucked in a breath, the intensity of his words slamming into her chest. They sounded an awful lot like marriage vows. And he’d called her that strange thing again:  _mitt hj_ _ärta_. What did that mean? He’d said it to her a few times since he’d returned from the raid. Not only that, but she could still hear the words he’d bellowed at Skinchanger, right before saving her:  _get your hands off my wife_.

The moonlight fell across his face from the window above the bed, bathing him in bright, white light and making his golden eyes flash like fire. His words, his actions, everything about him made her body—nay, her very soul—thrum with yearning. Not simply in a physical sense, although certainly she wanted him in that way as well, but she yearned to learn all about him, to spend her days basking in his smile and warm gaze. She wanted to fall asleep every night in his arms and wake with his lips on her cheek. She wanted listen to his worries and help him with his struggles. And mayhap she wanted to give him children.

Elena smiled and leaned forward, pressing her lips gingerly to his.

“Make love to me, Cullen. Make me yours once and for all,” she murmured against his mouth, her hands running over his chest, lifting the linen shirt she’d embroidered for him so that her fingers could run over the hard ridges of his muscles.

He growled low and deep in his throat, one large hand clamping over the back of her neck, securing her against him. He met her kiss with desperate fervor, his lips pressing their advantage against her, his tongue sliding past the barrier of her mouth. She stroked his chest, ran her fingers through his chest hair, scraped her nails over his nipples, eliciting more low growls and moans.

All too soon, however, he wrenched his lips away, panting as he rested his forehead against hers. “Oh, lass, you have no idea how badly I want to take you. To push you down into that bed, tear those skirts from your body and bury myself deep inside of you. I would pleasure you until those lovely legs of yours fell right off,” he took a deep breath, exhaling in a determined sigh. “But not tonight.”

Elena groaned in protest. “What is the point of stealing me to be your woman if you won’t take me?”

Cullen chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth before curling his hands around hers and pulling them out from under his shirt. 

“So eager,” he chided playfully. 

“Cullen, the longer you wait to take me the more vulnerable I am to Skinchanger,” she urged, fear shooting up her spine as she thought back to the awful pressure of the Thane’s body trapping her against a building.

The golden lion of a man in front of her sighed. “That is exactly why I won’t take you tonight. You’re frightened, lass. I don’t want you coming to my bed out of fear, I want you to do it because it is— _I_ am—what you desire.”

“I do desire you,” she whispered, capturing his face in her hands as he had done to her so many times before, forcing him to meet her steady gaze. “Cullen Ar Mara Red Lion, I love you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Her declaration hung in the air for a moment, weighty and serious. Cullen stilled in her hands, save for his eyes flashing wide as he took in the value of her words, searched her face and gaze for confirmation of the truth in her voice. And then suddenly he was on her, moving so fast that she almost didn’t see him do so until his hands were caged on either side of her face and his lips firmly pressed against her own. She sighed, opening her mouth to his onslaught as the hard, heavy weight of him pressed her down into the mattress. Elena shifted, spreading her legs under him, accommodating his hips between her thighs.

Before she could really begin to kiss him back, before she could lock her legs around his waist and press her aching breasts to his hard, muscled chest, Cullen pulled away, pushing himself up on his hands to hover over her in the darkness. He gazed down at her, his handsome face breaking out into an exquisite smile. Gently he cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb along the curve of her cheekbone.

“Say it again,” he urged.

She smiled softly, turning into his touch, planting a kiss against his palm. “I love you, Cullen.”

“I love you too, Elena,” he rumbled before he bent his head, brushing a whisper soft kiss across her lips. He took a deep breath and a strange, sharp emotion flitted across his face. “With all my heart. Lass, listen to me, things in the Hold, they’re going to get worse before they get better— _if_  they get better at all. Skinchanger will be passed out in a drunken stupor tonight, most of the hold will be. If you wish, you can take my horse, you can go home.”

Elena stared at him, wide eyed and mouth slightly agape.  _You can go home_. That was perhaps the last thing she ever expected to hear from him. Pushing away niggles of insecurity, she realized he was offering because he truly did love her—enough to send her home if that was her wish; he would do anything to keep her out of danger. A fierce longing rose up inside her chest.  _Home_. But what was home now? Her brothers, of course, but they were busy with their own lives—William with his Templar duties and Henry with his family and Chevalier service. Her father would certainly be horrified to learn where she had been these past weeks; he would lament her ruined state, regardless of whether or not Cullen ever touched her. Her grandmother might take her in, but the thought of life in glittering, empty Val Royeaux didn’t appeal to her as it once might have. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest at the thought of never seeing Cullen again. She would miss her family, yes, but she couldn’t  _go_ home; she already  _was_  home.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, finally summoning the courage to speak.

Now it was Cullen’s turn for his eyes to widen in disbelief. “You don’t want to leave?”

She shook her head and pressed soft, chaste kisses to his lips. “I’m your woman, Cullen. I won’t be parted from you.”

He kissed her again, slowly this time, his body settling over hers in a firm, sensual melding of flesh and bone, until she wasn’t sure where she ended and began. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as he caressed her face, her neck, her hair. Cullen’s lips coaxed hers apart, moving against hers but not deepening their kiss. Elena locked her arms around his neck, stroking her fingers lightly up the top of his spine into his golden curls. She sighed as fire burned deep within her, hot and sensitive to his every movement. She pressed her hips to his, begging him with her body to take her; she could feel the insistent jut of his cock pressing against her stomach and the thought of him hard and wanting drove her to distraction.

Much to her disappointment, however, he slowly pulled back, disentangling their legs, until he was once again kneeling on the floor. “Still, I haven’t changed my mind. Not tonight, mitt hjärta.”

Elena huffed, her body aching for his touch and she felt strangely bereft without the delicious crush of him atop her.

“You drive me to madness, you know that?” She snapped.

Cullen chuckled, not the least bit perturbed by her peevishness. “Yes, my wee mad lass; you’re quite maddening yourself. Now, shimmy out of that dress and get to bed. I have a mind to hold you in my arms until dawn.”

~*~

The next few days passed agonizingly slowly. Cullen was gone from their bed by the time she awoke each morning and usually didn’t retire until long after she went to sleep. They didn’t speak again of him claiming her—there wasn’t really an opportunity. He spent time with her of course, but always around others; he would hold on his lap as he and his family sat around the fire, chatting after dinner. He would sneak a sweet, swift kiss or two on his way out of the house to practice with his war band, his fingers always lingering over her waist and cheek as he pulled away. Cullen whispered soft words of love as he came up behind her while she was bent over the table, making bread, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. But nothing more and it frustrated her—it was almost as if he was purposefully avoiding time in bed with her. Still embarrassed by her wanton actions when he’d returned from the raid, Elena wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to initiate anything with him, but at the same time, she felt as if she would explode from yearning for his touch. Every little brush of skin, every gossamer kiss sent heat spiraling through her body, making her wet and wanting. But aside from holding her as they slept, Cullen kept his hands to himself at night. She supposed, though, he had enough on his mind outside of their bed.

Since Cullen and Skinchanger’s fight, tension in the Hold was palpable. During the daytime Elena noticed a number villagers approaching Cullen, whether he was training with his brother and the war band, chopping wood, or otherwise engaged. He would pause whatever it was he was doing, pull them off to the side and speak with them for a moment. Before they left, they’d usually clap their hands on each other’s shoulders in some sort of sign of male agreement. The whole thing baffled her at first, but then she noticed roughly a third of the village going to the Thane’s Hall, or doing the same with Skinchanger when he was walking about the Hold.

Even more perplexing, as she spent the day following Rosalie or Mia around, helping in the garden or trailing them in the little market, invariably women would approach her and introduce themselves. Usually they asked her questions about herself—where was she from? Was her father a famous warrior among her people? Was there any food she particularly liked? Elena tried to ask questions back, but most of them simply smiled, introduced her to the children usually perched on their hips or clinging to their skirts, and then found an excuse to leave. It took her four or five of these encounters before she realized they were courting her. There was something in the wind at Red-Lion Hold, and many of the villagers knew just which way it might blow. It made her not a little self-conscious, to say the least.

Out of everyone in the hold she found the children the easiest to approach. Most of them were interested in her since she was a lowlander, but they hadn’t yet developed the wariness their parents possessed around outsiders. Whenever she had free time during the day, she loved to scamper around with them; they easily and readily accepted her into their games, and as often as not she was the arbitrator of disputes and judge of contests. She held them rapt with her tales, much the same way she had entertained Cullen while he lay injured.

It was perhaps two days after Skinchanger’s attack when Cullen sought her out as she was playing with the children—it was a silly game were in the person who was it was blindfolded and had to seek out the others who would approach and touch them to show their bravery. Traditionally, the person who was it had to catch someone and kiss them to make someone else it, but since the children didn’t like kisses, it was decided that those who were it simply had to wrap both their arms around the other person and pick them up.

Elena had graciously agreed to be it first since she didn’t think any of the children could lift her, and was currently running in circles, her skirts swishing around her legs and the echo of children’s laughter rang in her ears. She could feel the little devils dancing just out of reach. More peals of laughter assailed her ears just as someone gave a sharp tug on her skirt. Elena spun around, hands blindly outreached before her. She felt the air move as if someone had been just out of reach of her fingertips. There was another sharp tug and she spun, hands curling around— _Well that certainly isn’t a child._

Her hands met warm skin that was covered with a fine dusting of hair; a chest rose and fell under her touch as the person before her breathed steadily. She stilled, realizing immediately that it was a grown man she was touching.  _But who?_  The breeze shifted, ruffling her hair and swirling her skirts.  _Cullen_. The spicy masculine scent of him was unmistakable. She smiled, letting her hands run up his chest to caress his stubble roughened jaw.

“Oh my, you’re much too heavy for me to lift!” she called, eliciting a riot of laughter from the children who were still gathered around them.

A warm hand tilted her chin, and a thumb brushed over her bottom lip, her skin burning with pleasure wherever he touched. “Then you’ll just have to claim a kiss from me, lass.”

His warm breath fanned over her face and she could  _feel_  that he was a mere breath from her. Her heart thudded and Elena licked her lips, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing it would bring a lustful look to his eyes. With just the sound of his breath hitching in his throat from warning, Cullen claimed her mouth with his. The children around them erupted in squeals of laughter and protests. Aware of their audience, Elena pulled back just as he tugged the blindfold from her face. It fell to the ground in a flutter. Cullen stood before her, tall and powerful, with a heated look in his gaze. She felt something rock through her as their eyes met, and the world around her disappeared.

“Come with me? I want to show you something,” he murmured.

The game forgotten, Elena nodded, and, lacing her fingers with his, set off towards the edge of the Hold, excitement coiling through her body as she wondered where he was taking her. She knew whatever it was, he wouldn’t let harm befall her; Elena would follow Cullen to the Void and beyond if he asked.

As they walked through the forest, Elena studied his back. The broad shoulders and narrow hips that filled her field of vision were familiar to her now, and just as impressive and awing a sight as he had been when she first saw him. There wasn’t an inch of spare flesh on his body—everything was taut skin and hard muscle. His arms and legs were corded powerfully, but he moved silently through the underbrush and held her hand like a precious, treasured thing. If only she had known then what he would mean to her that first time their eyes had met–and perhaps she had. Perhaps when she’d looked into his face and thought him more beautiful than a desire demon, she’d known. Known that her entire life she had been barreling towards that moment, an unchangeable path leading straight to him. 

The man was a study in contradictions, she decided. Though he had stolen her to “bed and wed and make his own” he’d yet to act on it; instead he had set about wooing her, in a strange way. Despite the fact that he could have easily taken her many times before—in fact, she’d practically thrown herself at him—he’d held off, waiting for her to declare her desire, until he was certain of her consent. A fierce warrior who could fell ten enemies without much trouble, he was gentle and caring through and through.  _And he loves me_.

Soon the sounds of rushing water reached her ears. Suddenly the trees parted and Elena found herself in a small meadow nestled deep within the forest. There was a stream that meandered through the middle, with lush, verdant grass on either side. Late summer wildflowers bloomed along the edges of the clearing—vibrant purples and pinks and yellows. Tied to a tree nearby was Cullen’s horse.

“Oh,” Elena exclaimed, taking in everything before her. “It’s beautiful here.”

She had ventured forward, the fragrant grass tickling at her ankles as the wind stirred her hair. She stood for a moment, breathing in the sweet, fresh air before strong arms circled her waist, and she was pulled back into the warmth of Cullen’s chest. She felt him nuzzle her hair, his lips a whisper away from the shell of her ear.

“Yes,” he murmured. “It is. I used to come here when I was a boy, when I needed to get away from my siblings. And then later, when my father died—it was a good place for thinking, for decision making.”

The softness of his voice as he spoke of his father made her heart ache; she wasn’t sure if Cullen had ever spoken of his parents to her before, and from the pain in his voice she could tell the wounds were still fresh. Before she could ask him anything, he swept her mass of red tresses to one side of her neck, and planted a hot, open mouthed kiss against the suddenly bare skin just below her ear. A little moan escaped her lips as her heart hammered painfully in her chest. Heat suffused her entire body as Cullen held her flush to him. She could feel his desire, not only in the stiffness pressing into her back, but in the tension rolling over his arms, trembling in his legs. He wanted to have her, but he was holding himself at bay.

_But why?_ Why wouldn’t he unleash the full force of his desire on her? She could feel it, simmering hot and tight, barely controlled just below his skin. And she wanted it, all of it, everything he had to give. Was he afraid to hurt her? Well, she would just have to show him that she wasn’t as breakable as he thought.

As suddenly as he had caught her up in his arms, he stepped away, turning her to face him. She gazed up at him, struck by the intensity of his eyes: the protectiveness, the determination, the love. She tried to communicate much the same in her own gaze as he stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“Since you will not be persuaded to leave,” he began, plucking her hands from her side and bringing them to his lips for a soft brush of kisses. “I shall endeavor to teach you how to defend yourself. I don’t think Skinchanger will leave you be, and I fear that I will not always be around to protect you.”

Dropping her hands, Cullen pulled out a wicked-looking dagger from a sheath in his boot and handed it to her. For the next two hours, he carefully showed her how to wield the blade with lethal accuracy. After she removed her outer gown so that she was clad in only a simply white shift—better for him to see her movements, he said, a wolfish glint in his eye—they started with poses. He gently pushed her legs apart, bent her arms, positioned her until she had a perfect stance. Each touch, each brush of his skin against hers, sent fire coursing through her veins. By the time Cullen showed her how to grip the hilt and where to drive it into a man’s body she was aching with longing, her body taut with pent up tension. She registered every tiny move he made.

“If you can puncture a lung, that’s good, but it’s risky. If your blade hits the rib you’ll be in a bind. It’s better to aim lower on the body—stab up and twist in the back to shred the kidneys, or the same on the front to get his stomach. It takes a long time to die from a stomach wound, but it will incapacitate instantly.”

She nodded, taking in his words. Cullen stood behind her, one hand grasping her hip, the other wrapped over her hand on the hilt of the dagger, his fingers burning a trail of light wherever he touched her. He guided her through the motion, his body moving with hers seamlessly, making her think of other ways they would move seamlessly together, before he stepped back and watched her perform the action over and over again as he circled her.

“Good,” he murmured, satisfied with her progress. “I want you to promise me to keep that blade on you at all times.”

Elena nodded, promising him she would before she bent to strap the blade into the sheath Cullen had fixed around her ankle. She could feel him watching her, admiring and appreciating the curve of her bottom as she bent before him. It made her smile, the fact that he desired her, that she could please him just by doing something so simple. As she righted herself, she felt Cullen’s arms snake around her from behind, binding her arms to her sides and crushing her to his chest.

“What will you do if a man comes up behind you?” He asked, breath hot against her skin.

She shivered, her hands scrambling to grip his hips behind her. She could feel his cock, hard and aching, pressed against the curve of her ass. Without thinking, she pressed her hips back, desperate to feel him closer. The past few days had been a study in frustration, and she was ready to snap. Cullen groaned at her actions and rolled his hips forward meeting her wanton movements.

“Bend your legs and lean back,” he instructed, still dedicated to teaching her defense, though she knew even his staunch discipline would soon be abandoned to desire—the tremor in his voice told her he was barely hanging on.

She did as he instructed, bending her knees and leaning back into him; at the back of her mind, she knew this was a maneuver to fell an enemy that might grab her, but all she could think about was the fact that she and Cullen were tumbling down into the soft sweet grass around them. They rolled, shifted; this was no long about defense, it was about the solid  _rightness_  of his body beneath hers, above hers, it was his arms holding her close, caging her so that she wasn’t hurt as they fell and tumbled and vied for dominance. As their legs tangled and shifted the hem of her skirt rucked up, higher and higher, pooling around her hips. They finally stilled, her sprawled across his chest, straddling his hips while he held her, one arm snug around her waist. Elena looked down at him, drinking him in, as she propped herself up with one palm firmly in the grass next to his head.

Cullen was golden. Everything about him was bright and golden and  _good_ , from his honey colored curls to his amber eyes, to the warm tawny velvet skin that warmed underneath her touch and brilliant blazing smile he wore. Golden hair dusted his body, thicker and darker in some places than others. Maker’s Breath, he was handsome. Elena smile at the man below her and stroked his face. She wanted him; he’d been teasing for days, denying both of them what they wanted, but she wouldn’t be denied anymore. Slowly, she bent her head, capturing his mouth in a kiss. She pressed her lips to his firmly, insistently, coaxing his lips apart and sliding her tongue into the deep of his mouth. He groaned under her, his hand tightening around her waist, pinning her to him. As she pulled away, he nipped his bottom lip, drawing it as she retreated.

“Claim me, Cullen,” she whispered, rolling her hips against him, pleased to find him already rock hard. “Or I’ll claim you.”

At her words, he threw his head back and laughed, a rich, deep sound that Elena wanted to crawl inside of and never leave, before he rolled them again, flipping her so that she sprawled on her stomach with him atop. The heavy weight of his body settled over her, his thighs hugging her hips as he traced one hand up the smooth, naked expanse of her leg, up higher, to push her skirts around her waist.

“Elena, mitt hjärta,” his lips were at her ear and she could feel his other hand curling into the hair at the base of her neck. His voice dripped of sex and dominance, sending trills down her spine with each word. “You’ve already claimed me, sweetling. Every time I look at you it’s a battle not to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you senseless.”

She purred underneath him, arching her back and pressing against his stiff length. Here was the fearsome barbarian warrior who had thrown her over his shoulder and stolen her away. Here was the man who promised to fuck her and fill her and get her with child. She was overwhelmed with a wave of desire from his words and could feel herself dampening between her legs–no, that wasn’t right; she was soaking wet already, had been all day, all night, as she ached for his touch. The heavy pressure of his hips on her ass lifted for a moment, and she heard the creak of leather. When he pressed himself back against her, Elena could feel the heavy, hot tip of his cock tight up against her entrance and she clenched in anticipation. Sharp pain at the base of her neck, mingling sensually with the desire coiling through her body as Cullen tugged on the handful of her hair, tilting her head back and sealed his lips over hers in a possessive kiss. She moaned, desire flooding down her throat, coating her veins with want, and she rutted against him like a wild animal, desperate for him to fill her. Her nipples were hard, her breasts felt heavy and swollen with need.

“Cullen!” she gasped as he broke their kiss, all the while thrusting the rigid length of his cock against her slick folds. “Take me, please!”

“Tell me what you want, lass,” he panted with the exertion of holding himself back, his teeth nipping at her ear.

“You!” She wailed; she would have thrashed her head from side to side to see him, but he held her hair firm in his fist.

“Tell me  _exactly_  what you want, Elena,” he snarled, stilling his hips against her writhing form beneath him.

“Cullen! Please. I want you to fill me, fuck me! You promised!” She was desperate, her hands clawing at the grass beneath them; her back arched, presenting her soaking entrance to him as he teased her with just the crown of cock.

“As you wish.”

With a powerful roll of his hips, Cullen slid inside of her. Elena was so wet, so ready for him, that her body parted easily, invitingly, for his rock hard cock. He sheathed himself inside of her with such smooth grace it was as if their bodies were made to fit together. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as stars exploded behind her eyelids and her hands fisted in the grass, ripping in up in the violence of her release. Desire shuddered through her as her body clenched down hard around him, her velvet walls drawing him in. Cullen groaned, his hips stilling for fear of spilling inside of her too soon. She was so perfect around him, tight and hot and  _so wet_  as she came simply from feeling him inside of her. With a  trembling hand, Cullen reached forward and cupped one of her breasts through her shift, his big, rough palm squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He pinched her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to her sex, prolonging her release. Elena moaned, a low throaty noise that made Cullen so hard it was near painful.

Elena felt full, impossibly full, and aching with her man, with the rightness of him inside of her, a part of her. Whimpering, she begged him to move with a tentative jerk of her hips, tearing a moan from deep in his throat as her body shuddered around him once again.

“ _Cullen_ ,” she gasped. “ _move_  damn it!”

That seemed to get his attention. He drew out of her, the hot, hard length of him dragging through her aching sex before he slammed back into her, sending shockwaves through her bones with his ferocity.

“Yes!” she gasped, bucking her hips into his thrust. “AGAIN!”

He did as she commanded, drawing himself nearly all the way out before slamming back into her soaking cunt. Faster and faster with each roll of their hips, until they were moving as one, fire spreading from their throbbing, aching sex, licking up their bodies. Cullen tightened his grip on her hair, arching her back for another brutal kiss. Her back bowed, spine curved as she surrendered to him completely, the rhythmic snap of his hips, thrust of his cock, filling her completely and utterly, nearly driving her mad with the perfection of the moment.

“Do you like this, lass?” he crooned, gazing into her eyes. “My cock, filling you, me  _fucking_ you? Did you ever imagine this while you tossed and turned on silken sheets in your golden palace? That someday a barbarian would snatch you away and fuck you senseless into the dirt? Fuck you like a real man, take you and claim you as  _my woman_  forever? No man will ever dare to touch you again.  _You. Are. Mine!”_

Elena whimpered at his words, only a low whine escaping her lips as heat bloomed deep in her belly. She was so crazed with desire, with want, and need, and being so full of  _him,_  that she could barely make out his words, though they slammed into her just as his cock did, with a force great enough to make her bones rattle. No, she had never dared to dream something like this would happen to her. No, she had never imagined a man could take a woman like this—raw and primal and honest. She felt his head rest between her shoulder blades for a moment, his hips never stilling in their frantic, punishing pace.

“I want to look into your eyes when I make you come again. The feeling of you around my cock—oh _lass_ ,” Cullen growled.

Elena shuddered and twisted, feeling utterly empty when he slipped from her to roll onto his back. She scrambled after him, straddling his hips and claiming his mouth in a hard, desperate kiss.  Cullen held her close, one arm an iron band around her waist, the other tangled in her hair. She ran her fingers down his chest, tracing and stroking the hard lines of his muscles, the ridges of old scars; he moaned when she scratched lightly over his nipples, and he snaked his tongue into her mouth, deepening their kiss. She swallowed his cries, his breath, took everything he gave her and gave it back in equal measure.

“Tell me what you want,” she murmured against his lips as she rubbed herself with wanton abandon against the hard jut of his cock where was pressed between them.

Cullen chuckled and tugged at the neck of her shift, loosening the tie that held it closed and causing her breasts to spill out. He nuzzled them, the rough stubble on his jaw scratching delightfully over her sensitive skin.

“I want,” he whispered, pausing to kiss a dusky nipple until it hardened into a pert peak, “to make good on my promise,” he turned his attention to her other nipple, licking and nipping until it was hard and aching. “And fuck you,” he drew her peak deep into his mouth, sucking hard and causing her to moan at the sheer pleasure of it. “Until I’m positive I’ve put a babe in your belly.”

Cullen tore his gaze away from her breasts and captured her face between his hands, ensuring she looked deep into his eyes as he spoke. “I’m going to spill my seed in your womb again and again until it’s dripping down your thighs, until there’s no doubt that it’s taken root and my child grows inside of you.”

“Fuck,” Elena moaned, dragging the word out into a guttural snarl as desire flushed over her entire body, burning away any last shred of control with hot, violent delight.

She reached between them and gripped his shaft, stroking him. A smile curved on her lips as his cock twitched in her hands, and Cullen groaned, eyes closing and mouth falling open. She loved the feeling of him in her hands—the heavy weight of him, the way he throbbed when she squeezed him just the right way. Velvet encased steel, thick and long; her cunt clenched in anticipation of having him inside of her once again.

Lifting her hips, she positioned the broad head of his cock against her entrance. Cullen’s hands flew to her waist, gripping her tightly as she began lowering herself onto him, his fingers bruisingly hard against her soft skin. _Good_. She wanted him to leave marks on her, erase any and all doubt that she was anyone’s but his, and his by her choosing.

They moaned in unison as she sheathed him fully inside of her. Elena stilled, bracing herself on his chest, letting her body adjust to the feeling of him nestled deep in her aching heat. He was so thick, and this new angle pressed his hard length tight and deep inside of her. After a moment, she began to rock slowly, rolling her hips in slow circles—she wasn’t quite ready to thrust herself upon him, to impale herself with wanton fury, though she  _would_ , and soon. Cullen rolled his hips with her, causing his cock to shift deep inside of her. With one hand firmly anchored at her waist, he traced the ridge of her spine with light fingertips as they rocked together.

“Look at me, Elena,” Cullen whispered, his voice tight with need.

She snapped her eyes open–she hadn’t realized she’d closed them–locking her gaze onto his handsome face. “Cullen. Please.”

She didn’t know what she was begging for, only that she was begging and that he would know what she wanted. His hand reached the top of her spine, and he moved to caress her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, the corner of her lips, thumb brushing down her chin, down her throat, until his hand rested on her shoulder, fingers splayed across the nape of her neck, thumb pressed to the hollow between her collarbones.

“Beautiful girl,” he murmured, cocking his head to the side. “Do you want my child in your belly?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she gasped. “I want… _oh_ , Cullen. I want there to be no doubt for anyone that I’m yours. And that you’re mine.”

“Good,” he snarled, his hand sliding down her body to grip her waist.

He lifted her easily, his cock sliding hotly through her soaking heat. Another gasp fell from her mouth as he pulled her up his length, until only the crown of his cock rested inside of her. Bending his knees, he began thrusting into her with powerful, pounding snaps of his hips. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure rocketing through her body and soon her hands curled into fists against his chest.

Elena let her head tilt back, her eyelids fluttering shut as she was consumed by the pleasure humming just beneath her skin. Everywhere he touched her pleasure bloomed, lush and bright. Her body was shivering with delight and her skin felt too tight to contain the emotions rushing through her. She was so close to her release—to bursting and crashing and shattering.

“Cullen,” his name fell from her lips. “Cullen my love, my fierce warrior.  _Cullen_. My golden lion.”

He was still slamming into her, his cock filling her with a furious intensity that bordered on madness. She could tell by the frantic thrusts of his hips, by the way he throbbed inside of her, that he was close.

“Look at me lass,” he growled.

  Elena looked.

The moment their eyes locked, Cullen  _roared_. He thrust into her to the hilt and she felt the hot burst of his seed. The look on his face, the pure unadulterated pleasure that shown through his eyes, was all the more she needed. She followed him, her body clenching around his girth, her hands scratching into his chest as her entire body shattered and was reformed around him. Body wracked with shudders, she fell forward, collapsing atop him. Cullen held her close and continued to thrust, prolonging their pleasure as she pressed her face to the crook of his neck.

Eventually they slowed, save for their breathing and his hand moving in her hair, soothing down the wild tangle of tresses. He slipped from her, and she nearly sobbed at the empty feeling that replaced him. Elena tiled her head up and Cullen’s lips fell across her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, until he brushed whisper soft kisses at the corner of her lips. Warm afternoon sunlight heated her back, and the languor in her bones spread, making her eyelids heavy. After what seemed like a small eternity, Cullen shifted under her, sliding away and standing. He kicked his trousers off and stalked across the meadow to his horse. Elena rolled onto her side and watched the seductive ripple of his muscles with sleepy eyes. He was utterly masculine and perfect, sleek and muscular, and  _hers_.

Cullen rubbed his horse along its neck for a moment, speaking softly before he began rummaging around in the saddlebags. He pulled out a blanket, a flagon, and a small basket for food before returning to where she lay in the grass.

“Come here, love,” he rumbled, spreading the blanket out over the grass.

She moved slowly, her body humming pleasantly with aching and newness. Emboldened by their lovemaking, Elena shed her shift, letting it flutter to the ground next to his trousers and crossed over to him. Cullen looked up from where he sat, a brilliant smile flashing over his lips as he captured her hips between his rough hands and peppering her pale skin with kisses before pulling her down into his lap.

“I love you,” he murmured, cupping her face, fingers splayed across her cheek.

“I love you too,” she echoed just before he lowered his head for a slow, searing kiss.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little on the short side, but after the delay (thanks, depression), I just wanted to put something up for you all. I hope you like it!

Golden afternoon sunlight warmed her skin as Elena lay in Cullen’s arms, happy and sated. She ran her fingers up and down his chest, tracing old scars and tangling in his golden chest hair. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, threatening to set soon. Next to her sat the remnants of the meal they’d shared, all but forgotten when passion had overwhelmed them and they’d tumbled to the ground in a slow, sensual embrace once more.

“Cullen,” she started, breaking the white noise of the forest around them.

“Hmm?”

“Are we married now?”

Cullen shifted slightly, looking down at where her head was pillowed on his chest. “Do you want to be wed, lass?”

Though she could hear the amusement in his gentle tone, Elena blushed, feeling not a little bit like those marriage-maddened ladies at the Imperial Court. “It’s just that I don’t always understand how things work here…I mean, you’ve claimed me now and we live together…”

He was silent for a moment, and ran his knuckles along the line of jaw. “No, mitt hjarta, we’re not married. There would need to be a ceremony before the Hold, first. But you’re my woman, claimed and kept. Any children we may have will be legitimate, and as I said before, I’ll not take another woman while I have you.”

They fell silent and Elena mulled over his words. She still didn’t quite understand what the difference was, but she wouldn’t push it–she’d see more than one relationship crumble because one wouldn’t drop the topic of marriage when the other clearly didn’t wish to speak on it. As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Cullen suddenly rolled them, bringing her onto her back, him covering her. He framed his hands on either side of her head.

“Look at me, lass,” he coaxed. “That’s it. Understand, our marriage ceremony involves an exchange of vows, yes, but I’ve given you those vows. If you want to say the woman’s part to me, I’ll teach it to you–nothing would make me happier. But I can see what you’re thinking, and don’t. Part of the marriage rite is a contest. The woman sings a song while the man unties knots from a length of rope. The number of knots he undoes by the time she finishes her song signifies the number of years their joining will last.” He paused, and brushed his lips over hers, so softly she didn’t have a chance to return the gesture. “I don’t want us to be temporary. You’re my woman until I go back to the sky, and even then, I’ll find a way to crawl back to you.”

She felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes as his declaration, and the emotion behind it, washed over her.

“I love you,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him down for a deep kiss as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Cullen slid into her, the hot brand of his cock parting her slick heat as he seated himself inside of her. He stroked her face, traced the lines of her features as they gently rocked together, deep, and slow, Elena strained to keep her eyes open and locked on his, biting her lips to keep from moaning too ardently least her eyes slip closed. She buried her fingers in his silken curls, her back arching as the broad crown of his cock rubbed just the right spot deep in her core. Their passion burned hot and fast, and soon she felt the tell-tale signs of her body tightening for release–her back taut as a bow, her nipples pebbled and aching, her sex tight, drawing him deep within her.

He groaned, the smooth, slow rhythm of his hips stuttering as he struggled to withhold his release until she had found hers. A shift of her hips, the rasp of his beard against her throat, and suddenly the world melted away in an explosion of white. Distantly, she heard his heady roar and the felt the scalding heat of his seed. Elena moaned, clutching her warrior to her as her body spasmed beneath him.  

Fingers splayed across her jaw, he kissed her, his tongue gliding over her own as he swallowed the last whimpers of her orgasm.

“Tell me the words,” she whispered against his mouth. “I want to say them to you.”

Cullen pulled back just a bit, so that he could look her full in the eye. “Are you sure, lass? You’ll be binding yourself to me for life.”

“Yes. Cullen, please.”

He watched her a beat, as if trying to ascertain the truth behind her words. After a moment, he nodded. “Make them your own, but repeat after me. I solemnly pledge by all my gods and yours,”

“I solemnly pledge by my Maker, the Holy Andraste, and your gods,”

“That I will honor you, cherish you, and adore you.”

“That I will honor you, Cullen, cherish you, and adore you.”

“In this life, and all those to come, until the ending of time.”

“In this life, and all those to come, until the ending of time.”

“I will give you sons, and shelter you in my arms, and stand besides you against all others.”

“I will give you many children, and shelter you in my arms, and stand besides you against all others.”

“You have my pledge and my vow.”

“You have my pledge and my vow.”

Cullen smiled as the last words left her lip, and pressed a sweet kiss to her mouth. “We should head back soon. I’m sure the others are wondering where we are.”

Elena nodded and helped him pack up their provisions, though she was loathe to leave their meadow–their secret place. He helped her lace up her gown, and somehow the act of dressing was just as intimate as the act of undressing. His fingers lingered over the exposed skin of her back as he worked his way upward, and every so often she felt the feather soft brush of his lips against her neck.

They made their way slowly through the woods, Cullen’s arm securely around her waist as he led their horse behind them. As the sun began to set, the air chilled, remind Elena that they were in the last few golden days of autumn, and soon winter would be upon them. She shivered involuntarily as she thought about the harshness of Frostback winters–Elena had only seen snow once or twice. It was rare in Halamshiral and Val Royeaux, completely unheard of in Ostwick.

As the broke through the treeline at the back of the village, Cullen went rigid next to her. A moment later, she saw what had affected him so–a plume of black smoke billowed up into the sky, throwing ash into the air. Cullen raced through the Hold, dragging Elena behind him by the hand, their horse following dutifully at a fast clip. As they skidded into the central square, Elena’s stomach dropped. Cullen’s home was a smoldering ruin, devoured completely by flames that, by the looks, of things, had only just been put out.

“Cullen!”

He and Elena both turned at the sound of Rosalie’s voice, as the woman in question came flying over to them, and threw herself in her brother’s arms. A moment later, Mia and Branson appeared, and Elena felt relief flood through her when she realized none of them had been caught in the blaze.

“What in the name of the Mountain Father happened?” Cullen demanded, glaring over Rose’s shoulder at his other siblings.

He let Rose go, and they exchanged glances, wary it seemed, to be the bearer of bad news. Elena’s stomach sunk; it could only mean one thing. Skinchanger had something to do with the blaze–she would bet her life on it.

“Everyone was called to the Thane’s Hall for an announcement–we tried to look for you, but we had to go,” Brason finally began. “Once we were inside, Skinchanger took his sweet time appearing, but a moment before he could speak, the watchman ran in, yelling about the fire.”

Elena took in the dark look on Branson’s face and the equally dark look that passed over Cullen’s as he listened to his brother–it didn’t take much to figure out that the fire was no accident. But before either man could do anything about it, the crowd around them parted, revealing the Thane himself.

“You!” He roared when he alighted on Cullen. “You have menaced this village for the last time! Your carelessness and that of your family could have burnt this entire hold to the ground!”

“We both know this fire was no accident,” Cullen spat back.

Skinchanger’s face turned a mottled, livid purple at the younger man’s retort. “How dare you! You ungrateful whelp! Get out! Take you family and get out of this hold. If I see you on hold lands again, I’ll have you killed and your body thrown in a ditch.” He paused, raising his head to the crowd. “And anyone who tries to help him will receive the same fate.”

At his words, the crowd of villagers gasped, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Their Thane’s pronouncement didn’t sit easily with everything, but Skinchanger was too furious–or perhaps too pleased with himself–to notice. It was clear he was taking the fire as an opportunity to do with Cullen what he had longed to do. The Thane turned to leave, dismissing Cullen and his family like one would dismiss a gnat, but abruptly he turned back, a look of glee on his greasy face.

“And I’ll be taking payment for the damage you’ve caused to the Hold. That helmet of yours should do nicely.”

The color drained from Cullen’s face as he stiffened next to her. Elena found herself breaking away from his side. He couldn’t give up that helmet–he just couldn’t! It was all he had left of his father, and of his birthright. She threw herself at Skinchanger’s feet, heart pounding as she clasped her hands together in front of him.

“Please, my lord. I have many fine jewels–take those instead of Cullen’s helmet!”

Skinchanger sneered, “as pretty as you are on you knees, girl. I think not. What good are woman’s baubles to me?” With that, he turned away.

Elena felt numb–the place she’d called home for the last month was gone, her new family cast out and scattered to the wind. Was it her fault? Surely Skinchanger had always been jealous and fearful of Cullen and his popularity, prowess in battle, and the easy way he led his men, but she couldn’t help but feel as if her continued presence at Cullen’s side exacerbated the underlying issues. Hadn’t Cullen said now that he had a woman (a foreign one with wealth to boot) he could now claim his birthright.

Perhaps that was why Mia was Branson were looking at her with such contempt.

She felt strong hands grip her shoulders as Cullen lifted her to stand. “Come lass, we have much to do before dark.”


	11. Chapter 11

The Hold was silent as a graveyard as Cullen and his family began moving out. Elena watched her warrior, a frown etched over her face as she took in the tight, tense lines of his back and shoulders. He held his head high, but she could feel the silent anger and humiliation rolling off of him. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but she could tell that wasn’t what he needed. Cullen didn’t want to appear weak before the Hold or Skinchanger.

Branson had appeared with a cart, and the girls quickly set about loading it up with the household goods they had managed to save from the fire. Elena was relieved to see her chest was among the items saved; perhaps they could use her jewels to trade for food later on. Though in truth she didn’t know where they were going–to another hold? Further into the wilderness? Towards civilization? She shook her head, now was not the time to dwell on such things. Skinchanger had given them until sundown to leave, and they had better move before that if they didn’t want to walk through the night. She simply had to trust that Cullen would take care of them. 

She hurried over to Rose and Mia, and began arranging items in the cart. When Elena turned her attention back to their small pile of belongings, she could swear there was one more bag of  potatoes that had previously been there. She glanced up, but all she could see was the villagers milling around, watching them surreptitiously, mindful of the Thane’s guards. Some gave them sympathetic looks, but most studiously avoided making eye contact.

Elena returned to her task, surprised yet again to find a small parcel of salted meat.

“Mia, I think–” She began.

“You’ve said quite enough already,” the other woman snapped, taking the parcel from Elena’s hands.

Elena swallowed her words and clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t blame Mia for her anger, nor for directing it at her. But it still hurt to have the blame laid at her feet.

By the time they were finished, the wind had picked up, and the sun was low on the horizon. Their little party trudged to the edge of the Hold, Cullen up front with Branson leading the horse and cart behind the women. As they reached the boundaries of the village proper and the farm lands beyond, Skinchanger and a band of his men hurried forward from the Thane’s hall.

“You’re forgetting your payment, boy,” the Thane snapped.

Cullen’s jaw clenched, and he flexed his fingers into fists. Elena stilled, worried that he would lash out at the older man, and cause himself harm. Slowly, she slipped to his side, and placed a comforting hand on his forearm. Cullen jerked at her touch, but relaxed when he glanced down and saw her. With a stiff nod, he signaled to Branson to bring the helmet forward from the cart. Without ceremony, he thrust it into Skinchanger’s hands.

“I’ll be back for it, old man.”

Skinchanger ignored the remark, his eyes sliding over Elena as if Cullen hadn’t even spoken. “If you’d rather stay in comfort, girl, it can be arranged. All you needs do is to say so.”

Cullen bristled next to her. and Elena narrowed her eyes. “I can’t imagine your lady wife would agree.”

With a shrug he replied. “Meredith is a reasonable woman.”

“Well I’m not,” she snapped. “I’d rather sleep in a hovel with Cullen then allow you to put your hands on me again.”

Skinchanger’s greasy smile never faltered, as if it didn’t matter a whit to him, but animosity glinted in his hard eyes. “Suit yourself. You’ll soon change your tune, and when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

~*~

It was fully dark by the time they stopped, the full moon fat and bright in the inky sky. Cullen had led them to an abandoned hunting shack. From what Elena could gather, it was occasionally used by the Avvar as a stopping point on raids or hunting excursions. It didn’t belong to anyone, per se, but was open for anyone to use who needed it. As they settled in for the night, chewing silently on dried chunks of meat, Elena rubbed her feet. They were sore from walking on the uneven terrain.

“I’ll take first watch,” Cullen said, his low voice breaking the silence save for the crackling fire.

Elena watched from her place on the floor as he stood and strode out of the small building, pausing only to drape a cloak around his shoulders. She frowned, unsure if she should go to him; perhaps now that they were out of the Hold, he would be more amenable to her soft comforts. And she desperately could use some comfort of her own. 

Elena glanced around, and catching Mia’s disapproving look across the fire, she decided against following him. 

With the heavy silence hanging over their heads, everyone quickly went to bed after supper. There was a long day ahead of them, if not many more. But Elena found it impossible to sleep. As the fire died down to embers, she lay on her bedroll, her eyes refusing to close. She needed Cullen–needed him beside her, not only for her own peace of mind, but so that she could make sure he too was alright. After what seemed like hours, she rose with a sigh, and, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, left the hut in search of her man.

She found him sitting between the roots of a massive tree, his back resting against the trunk, one leg was drawn up, while the other stretched out before him. Moonlight glinted off of his golden curls, turning them silver. A frown worried his face.As he gazed up at her, Elena was struck by just how lost he looked. She wished she could do more to comfort him, but all she had to give was herself. 

She let the blanket drop from her shoulders, the fabric whispering down her body to the hard earth. She knelt before him, his eyes following her slow descent until she crouched between his wide-spread legs. Elena cupped his face, her thumbs tracing his eyes, down his cheeks, before swiping over his full lower lips.

“Cullen.” His name was a whisper on the wind, the softest prayer.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Cullen surged forward, his lips crashing down upon her own. Their bodies rocked, tumbling backwards onto the hard, cold earth. Elena clung to him, her legs wrapped around his hips as she clutched his broad shoulders. His kiss was hard and hungry, seeking, demanding, until all she could do was take what he gave her, breath when he allowed her breath. She whimpered against him, desire spreading hot and insistent where she cradled him between her thighs. With a growl he scraped his teeth against her bottom lip, his mouth trailing scorching caresses down her jaw and throat.

Elena arched her back, begging him with her body to take comfort in her, to sink inside of her and bury his worries in her slick flesh. As he nibbled her throat, Cullen’s hands smoothed down her body, squeezing her breasts, her hips, until he began pulling her skirts up. She was still sore from his loving earlier, but she didn’t care; Elena opened her legs wider.

Cullen reached between them and fumbled with the ties on his trousers. A moment later she felt the hot, broad crown of his cock at her entrance. She shuddered, as a wave of pleasure so strong washed over her.

“Please,” she begged, burying one hand in his hair and yanking his lips towards hers for a devouring kiss. “You need me.”

Without ceremony, Cullen thrust into her. She gave a harsh gasp as her body parted for him, a pleasurable ache roaring to life deep in her center. With a groan, he hooked her legs over his arms and began pounding into her, driving her into the frozen earth beneath them.  Elena worked her hands under his shirt so she could scratched her nails down his back, causing him to buck wildly. Each roll of his hips ground against her pearl, causing flares of pleasure to spark with each touch. She clenched, drawing him deep as her pleasure bloomed hot and bright. Her head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry as she came undone.

“Elena!” He moaned her name like a plea as he stilled inside of her, his hot length pulsing as he found his release.

For a long moment, they stayed tangled together, their soft, heavy breaths mingling in the air. Eventually, the chill from the cold ground sank into her back, making her shiver. Cullen sat up slowly, tucking himself back together before offering her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her into his lap, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, woman. Never doubt that,” he murmured.

She gazed up at him, hoping all her love and adoration shown bright on her face. He still looked troubled, but the sadness was gone from his eyes. She smiled, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

“Never.”

~*~

The sharp wind off of the mountain bit into Elena’s cheeks, making her numb skin smart like a thousand tiny needles were embedded in her flesh. Her feet were at the awful point of numb where they ached, and each footstep sent shooting pain up her calves. Head down, she trudged silently behind Mia and Rosalie, their small wooden cart of goods lumbered behind them. Cullen led them further into the mountain pass, the dying afternoon light reflecting off the snow and rocks like blood. Elena whimpered. At the sound, Rose reached back and squeezed her hand.

They had been walking for the last three days; the first day hadn’t been bad, but the further away from the hold they got, the colder it became. She had no idea where they were headed or when they would finally stop, if ever. Though she wanted to ask Cullen where he was leading them, there had not been much time to do anything but  shovel in a few mouthfuls of food before passing out when the stopped for the night.

After what felt like an eternity, the sun has disappeared behind the horizon, and their little party stopped. Branson had gone ahead scouting, and found a small, abandoned barn where they could hold up for the night. Elena was relieved for that, at least. The last two nights had found them sleeping under the stars, and the night before that, in a dank cave that did nothing to keep the chill out of their bones.

Mia paused from seeing to their horse, and glanced up at the clouded sky. “Perhaps we should stay here for a while. I don’t like the looks of those clouds along the east. I think we might be in for a blizzard.”

Cullen studied the eastern horizon with a frown. “You may be right.” He paused, glancing back over his shoulder at the three women. “Unpack the wagon and bring everything into the barn including the horse.”

Elena hurried to help Rose unpack, though it really didn’t take long, as Cullen and Branson secured the perimeter and divided up the watch. Wanting to be helpful, Elena set off to gather firewood from the forest around them. Rose had said that if they went further up the mountains, they would eventually reach a point where no trees grew. Elena shivered thinking about such a barren place. Hopefully they would settle before reaching there.

As she moved throughout the nearby forest, bending to pluck sizable twigs and sticks off the ground, the wind whistled through the trees. It was a haunting sort of sound, a foreboding that sent shivers down her spine.

A twig snapped behind her, and Elena whirled around, heart pounding as her mind ran away with fears. She relaxed, however, when she saw Cullen leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed her. She had no doubt that he had purposefully made the sound to alert her to his presence. He gave her a soft smile and pushed off the tree.

“We’ll have to work on your senses, lass. A good shield-maiden is always listening to her surroundings. You should have heard me ten yards off,” he said not unkindly as he approached her.

“I’m not a shield-maiden,” she protested softly, a sigh leaving her lips as he cupped her jaw.

Cullen gave her a sad smile, bending his head so his lips hovered over hers, and the tip of his nose rubbed playfully against her own. “You will be. You’re already as fierce as one.”

Elena’s eyes fluttered closed. Despite the cold and the miserable conditions, one kiss from Cullen made all her discontent melt away. He pressed his lips to hers, slow and gentle, his mouth moving to coax her’s open. She dropped the bundle of sticks she was holding, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Cullen pulled her close, his hands settling at her waist. Slowly, he broke the kiss, and leaned his forehead against her own.

“I’m sorry I’ve put you in this situation, lass. I should provide better for you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault; Skinchanger is the one to blame.”

Cullen looked heartened by her words, but he still pulled away. “Come, lass. It’s getting dark, best get that firewood to the barn, and settle in for the night.”

He helped her gather more wood before they headed back to the barn. Branson was on watch for the first half of the night, then Cullen would take over. The inside of the building was long and narrow, with a low roof. At the center of the single room was a stone firepit, and low shelves lined the walls. The others had already set up their bedrolls and blankets along the wall, including a space for her and Cullen. Elena placed the wood in the firepit, and Cullen quickly began to build a fire.

Elena crossed over to where Rose and Mia crouched, going through their food supplies. Branson and Cullen had been hunting whenever possible, though dusk was falling earlier and earlier, making it difficult. The women had also been gathering various berries and roots as they went, but from the look on Mia’s face, Elena could tell that their supplies were dwindling at an uncomfortably fast pace.

“Here,” Mia said, thrusting a dagger and a large bowl of potatoes towards Elena. “Peel the potatoes.”

With a nod, Elena sat near the fire and got to work. Next to her, Mia began cutting chunks of salted meat, while Rose ventured outside for some water to boil everything in. Over her time with Cullen and his family, she’d learned to help out with preparing food, but she still found herself slow, her hands were clumsy with the knife, and she was worried about cutting herself.

The room was relatively silent, save for the sounds of the women preparing dinner. Cullen had moved outside in order to chop some extra wood to keep the fire going while they slept. A few minutes later, Rose returned toting two buckets of water, as she entered, she gave Elena a quick smile, before making sure their horse was settled.

Elena finished her task, and dunked each potato in a bucket of water before turning to Mia. “Here you are, ready for dinner.”

Mia turned to take the bowl from her, but paused when she caught site of the peelings on the ground, her face contorting in outrage. “You’ve left half them on the floor! How can you be so wasteful!? I know you grew up being pampered in a palace but for once in your life use your head!”

Elena sucked in a breath, the other woman’s words slamming into her chest, paralyzing her. She knew Mia was upset, but she hadn’t anticipated such hurtful words. She glanced down, trying to see where she went wrong. There were a few thicker chunks still left on the peels where the potato had been damaged.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–I–I didn’t think–”

“No! Of course you _didn’t_ think–” The other woman exploded.

“Mia!” Rose cut in.

“Hush Rose!” Mia snapped, glaring at her sister. “We both know she’s useless, even if our brother won’t see it.” She turned her attention back to Elena. “You’re nothing but burden. An extra mouth to feed. And a wasteful, frivolous one to boot!”

Elena felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to try to quell her tears. Her mind raced, trying to think of something say to make up for her blunder. She glanced down at the ground. There was nothing she could do. They were desperate and she had wasted their food.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, bending to pick up the peels and knife. “I’ll try to cut some of the extra off…I can fix it, I’m sure.”

“Forget it. Just get out of my sight; I don’t want to look at you.”  Mia snapped ripping the knife out of Elena’s hand, slicing open her palm in the process.

Elena cried out as pain engulfed her hand, spreading up her arm like wildfire.

“ _Mia!_ ” Cullen’s voice cracked from the doorway, the anger palatable in his voice.

A heartbeat later, Cullen was behind her, one arm wrapping around her waist curling her into his body, the other cradling her injured hand. The pain was beginning to subside, but the steady stream of blood made her feel light headed. Behind her, she could feel Cullen nearly vibrating with rage.

“What in Hakkon’s name is wrong with you?” He demanded.

“What’s wrong with me?” Mia shouted. “You’re the idiot who decided a lowlander would make a good wife! Maybe if you thought with your head instead of your cock we wouldn’t have been kicked out of the hold!”

Elena found herself thrust to the side, and she lost her balance, tumbling to the ground. She landed on her injured hand, wrenching a scream from her throat. Rose ran to her side, and helped her to stand just as a loud crack echoed in the room, and it took Elena a moment to realize Cullen had backhanded Mia. With a scathing look, Mia pulled her fist back and punched her brother in the jaw, snapping his head to the side.

“You’re a fucking fool,” she spat, arm pulled back to hit him again.

Cullen grabbed her hands, pulling her towards him and shaking her. “Get a hold of yourself, Mia. You may be the oldest, but _I’m_  the head of this family, and if you ever hurt Elena again I’ll abjure you.”

Next to her, Rosalie gasped at Cullen’s words. 

Mia looked as if she had been slapped again. “You would choose that worthless lowlander over your own flesh and blood?”

He released her wrists, shoving her away. “I’m done with this nonsense. Apologize to my wife.”

“She’s not your wife, she’s your whore,” Mia sneered. “It’s not the Avvar way to tie yourself to woman for life!”

A muscle ticked in Cullen’s jaw, as he thundered, “I swear to the Mountain Father, Mia, do _not_ test me right now.”.

“Cullen,” Elena didn’t recognize her voice at first, it was so small and soft. Mia’s words had hurt, and brought to bear all of Elena’s anxieties about her place in Cullen’s life, but she couldn’t let such violence and anger fester between her man and his family because of her. It was the only way she could feel even worse about the situation.

Clearing her throat she took a step towards Cullen, placing her uninjured hand on his forearm. “Cullen I’m alright. Please…”

Tension crackled in the air, and for a moment she thought the siblings would begin hitting each other again. After a long moment, Mia sighed.

“I apologize, Elena, for cutting your hand. Ii was an accident,” the other woman said stiffly, and Elena noticed that she clearly did not apologize for her cutting words. Still, she could live with it.

“Thank you, Mia.”

Cullen relaxed, and shook his head. “Mia, Rose, finish making dinner. I’m going to see to Elena’s hand,” he ordered, drawing her towards the other side of the narrow space.

He sat her down along a low shelf built into the wall and began examining her cut. It would need to be cleaned from when she fell, but she didn’t think it was serious. As he worked, she reflected on the hurtful, and clearly long simmering, words Mia had shouted. The most troubling thing was the statement that she was Cullen’s whore. He had assured her just a few days ago that she was his woman–his _wife_ –for life, but would anyone else see her that way? Would the Avvar ever accept her? Or would others forever try to push her out?

She gave herself a mental shake. Did she even belong here? She had said Cullen was her home, and truly she still felt that way, but would it be enough if she was forced to live forever as an outsider, untrusted and _different_.

As she pondered her heavy thoughts, Elena watched Cullen as he bent over her hand. She studied his face, memorizing each and every feature. Though his expression was still tight with rage, she couldn’t help but find him breathtaking. Still, he hadn’t contradicted Mia’s words; perhaps he knew the truth of them, and couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. She felt her tears well up anew at the thought, and she fought to keep them back.

She loved Cullen, and she knew he loved her. But was love enough?


	12. Chapter 12

Rosalie had been right, that evening a storm rolled in off the mountainside. The wind howled like hungry wolves baying for blood as frigid air stabbed through every nook and cranny in the barn to torment them with cold. Snow fell so thick that Cullen and Branson didn’t bother to set a watch beyond the doorway, and the only time anyone ventured outside was to scoop up more snow to boil down into water.

The atmosphere inside the barn was just as miserable. Tensions were so high between Mia and Cullen they wouldn’t speak to each other, and Branson and Rose had long since tired of playing messenger. Even things between Elena and Cullen were straining, and she was fearful that something would soon snap.

three days they sat, cooped up in the barn, staring at each other, and though they didn’t speak, everyone’s dire thoughts were heavy in the air. _Where would they go? How would they feed themselves?_ Their food sources were low, and with the weather the men couldn’t hunt. 

On the third night, Elena lay huddled under the nest of blankets and furs Cullen had laid out for them. She should sleep, but the screaming wind was unrelenting. Behind her, Cullen shifted, his arms drawing her closer to the warmth of his body as his breath tickled the back of her neck. She wondered if he too was awake–either from the wind or her own restlessness. She wished terribly that they could be alone to talk about, well, _everything,_ but with the current weather that wasn’t possible.

Cullen shifted behind her, rolling so that her back pressed against his front. With a huff, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him; he was awake then, perhaps even plagued by the same thoughts that would not cease galloping through her mind. She snuggled into him, the warmth of his body provide the comfort she so desperately craved.

The rough pads of his fingers stroked her hip, whisper soft, before dancing over the small swell of her stomach. Lower, pushing up the delicate fabric of her chemise until they tangled in the soft thatch of hair at the juncture of her thighs. Elena stiffened, her heart thudding in her chest. _Here? Now? He can’t want to–_

“Cullen,” she whispered, her voice plaintive. “No.”

“Hush love,” his warm voice rumbled against her ear, his fingers seeking lower, brushing over her lower lips for the briefest of moments. “Don’t deny me.”

She knew he wanted–no, need–the comfort just as much as she did. But, still–

“Your siblings,” she whispered, her eyes darting to where Mia and Rose lay huddled together across from them, to where Branson sat up against the door on the far side of the large space, at watch.

One thick digit stroked through her folds, gathering her slickness and spreading it up. His body stired in response, pressing up against her backside.

When he spoke, his whispered words contained a hint of laughter. “It didn’t bother you in the house.”

“ _Please_. They hate me enough already.”

Cullen froze at her words, the silence heavy around them. After a moment, he withdrew his hand to rest along the crest of her hip. She could feel the tension radiating off of him. Part of her ached to roll over and comfort him, take him into her arms and into her body. But she repressed that instinct–as much as she might crave intimacy with him, now was not the moment for physical pleasures.

Elena slept fitfully that night, her dreams an anxious jumble of images, always accompanied with an oppressive feeling. She ran from one scene to the next, always searching, never finding. As if the heavens were going to break apart and the world crumble around them. When she woke, she felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. 

It wasn’t until well after noon on the fourth day that the storm finally broke.

It was a peculiar thing, to suddenly miss the howling of the wind. But the world seemed almost too quiet, too calm without it. Cullen and Branson stepped outside, presumably to survey the path and see to any damage done to their cart. Elena turned her attention back to the sewing on her lap. She was mending a number of socks, gloves, shirts, and trousers that had been ripped or torn thanks to their earlier treck through the wilderness. A moment later, the door swung open, as the men returned.

“The cart is iced over, unfortunately, so we can’t leave today,” Cullen announced.

“No matter, it’s too late in the day to being travelling anyway,” Rose replied from her perch near Elena, her own mending nestled on her lap. “We have to pack, regardless.”

Cullen harrumphed in reply, before turning his attention to sharpening his sword. Branson did likewise. Silence descended once more, save for the crackle of the fire and snick of the whetstones on steel. Mia busied herself on the other side of the room, organizing what supplies could be packed up before the morrow.

“We need more kindling for the fire,” Mia said, glancing at their meager stack of firewood. 

Without waiting a beat, Elena set her mending aside. “I’ll go.”

Mia nodded, not deigning to reply otherwise, and Elena stood, gathering up her things.

“Stay close by!” Cullen ordered without looking up from the sword spread across his lap.

She was out the door before anyone else could say something, wrapping a warm cloak around her shoulders. Honestly, she would have used any excuse to come outside; she feared going mad if she had to spend one more second cooped up in that room.

As she walked deeper into the surrounding forest, Elena marveled at how beautiful the departing storm had left everything. Tree branches were laden with snow and delicate icicles dripped off their tips. The afternoon sunlight dazzled around her, like a million tiny diamonds. The cool, crisp air felt good, clean, in her lungs after days of smoky fire. Elena almost felt like singing.

Luckily for her task, the wind had knocked a number of branches and twigs to the ground, where they lay peaking up out of the snow for her. She worked slowly, enjoying her time away from everything and everyone. Twigs and sticks piled up in her basket, and she only paused to break larger ones over her knee.

Soon she had quite a bounty. She paused from her walk, her head tipped up towards the heavens. The warm sunlight felt wonderful on her skin.

A twig snapped behind her, the sound echoing around the clearing like an explosion. Elena whirled around, dropping her basket in surprise.

“Well, well, what have we here? Is it a little, lost kitten?” A raspy, melodious voice asked from deep within the shadows of the trees.

“Come now, Rivaini, you’ll frighten her,” came a jovial response.

Elena stood frozen, terror burning through her veins at their voices. ‘Who–who are you? Show yourselves!”

For a moment nothing happened, and she began to think that perhaps she _was_ going mad. But then the trees rustles and two figures appeared. One was a tall, beautiful woman with rich brown skin and lustrous black hair, the man next to her was short and stocky, with blond hair. Elena took an involuntary step back.

“It’s alright, kitten,” the woman purred. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

She seriously doubted that, for why else would they confront her here, when she was alone? Elena cast her gaze around, realizing that she had gone further from the barn than she had intended to, despite Cullen’s warning.

Making a split second decision, Elena dropped her basket, and spinning on her heel, took off in the opposite direction of the two ruffians.

“And there she goes,” came the dwarf’s sardonic voice.

Elena dashed through the forest in what she thought was the direction of the barn, branches scratching her her face and clothes. She had no heed for the tracks she was so obviously leaving. If she could just get to the barn–

Strong arms closed around her, jerking her backwards. Elena screamed, the sound cut short by a hand slapping over her mouth. For a split second, relief coursed through her–Cullen had found her, was here to rescue her–but then she realized the hand over her mouth was covered in cold metal, the sharp, pointed tips of the gauntlet cutting into her skin. Eyes wide, she wiggled, turning, until she could catch a glimpse of whoever held her.

The man–elf, it would seem–was unlike anyone she had ever seen. From his white blond hair to the bright, glowing tattoos burned into his skin.

“Quiet, girl,” the elf growled, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

At his words, Elena began to struggle in earnest. An image of the knife Cullen had given her flashed through her mind. It was safely tucked away under her skirts, where she couldn’t reach it to save her life. Behind her, she heard shuffling in the snow.

“Oh good, Elf, you’ve caught up with Lady Trevelyan,” the dwarf called out, as though these were the most normal thing in the world.

Elena stilled her thrashing. How did they know her name? Just who were these people?

“See, kitten. We really aren’t here to hurt you,” the woman said.

There was a rustle of leaves to her right. Elena strained to see who the newcomer was, but the elf held her firm. A moment later, someone brushed a finger against her forehead, their touch was cool as fresh spring water, calming, even. 

And then the world when dark.

~*~

It was the gentle rocking of the ground beneath her that woke her. That, and the pounding headache blooming behind her eyes. She was warm though, and resting upon something soft. Elena’s eyes fluttered open, and she winced at the light of the flickering oil lamps around her. Her head was light and aching, and her body felt as if she’d had five too many glasses of champagne.

“Cullen?” she slurred, confused. Where was her husband? The last thing she remembered was going to gather firewood…

A hazy memory began to form. Running through the snow. Strangers. Cold fingers. Cullen?

Elena struggled to sit up–she needed to figure out where she was and how to get back to the barn. Cullen would be near out of his mind with worry. Or he would be, when he realized she was gone. How long ago had left the barn? She pushed herself up and the world spun precariously. Just as she felt as if she would pitch off the side of her bed, a firm hand pushed down on her shoulder.

“Easy there, miss, you’ll probably be a bit dizzy for a while.”

Elena turned towards the not-unkind voice to find a tall man with blond hair was sitting on a small stool near the bed she was in. The room around them was dark and cramped, the gentle swaying indicating that they were on a boat. How in the Maker’s name had she gotten on a boat? She couldn’t remember any particularly large rivers nearby.

“Who are you? Where am I?” She asked, or rather, tried to; her tongue felt sluggish and her mouth as dry as the Western Approach.

The man quickly pressed a cup of water to her lips. “Easy. Drink, you need fluids.”

Elena gulped down the cold water, soothing her parched mouth and throat. The pounding in her head abated slightly, much to her relief. As soon as she drained the cup, the man refilled it for her. Somewhere beyond her line of vision, a door opened. Footsteps.

“How is she, Anders?” the voice was soft, feminine, but not the same as the woman from the clearing.

“Just awoke,” the man replied. “Dizzy.”

A face appeared before Elena, framed by raven black hair, a blood red stripe across the woman’s nose. Her bright blue eyes were kind, although Elena wasn’t sure if she could trust them.

“You’re safe now, my Lady,” the woman said. “We’re here to take you home.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Elena’s head snapped back and forth between the man and the woman leaning over her, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Home?” She asked, brow furrowed and mouth pursed in a frown.

The woman smiled brightly as if she were delivering the best news. “Yes. To your father.”

Elena blinked, trying to process the information. “You’re taking me to Ostwick?”

At her words, the woman’s smile faltered and she grimaced. “No, it’s far too long of a journey. You father is meeting us in Orlais. At your grandmother’s estate in Emprise du Lion.”

“No!” Elena sat up, pushing past the man’s cautioning touch and ignoring the way her head spun. “I need to go back! Take me back!”

The man and woman stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown three heads.

She _couldn’t_ go to Emprise du Lion. Cullen would never find her there. Oh Maker, _Cullen_! What would he think when she never returned from gathering wood? Would he think she left him, ran off at the first sign of hardship? Would he think she had fallen somewhere, gotten herself injured? Would he come after her? She mentally shook her head; that was a silly thought. Of course he would come after her. He loved her.

She glanced around the room. Where were the others--the woman, the dwarf, and the elf? Were they on board this ship as well? Would they try to stop Cullen if he came for her? Surely Cullen and Branson could take on quite a few enemies, but just how many warriors would they be up against here? And not only that, but something told her that these weren’t ordinary warriors. Her head was spinning with so many questions, but one thought stood stark in her mind: she needed to get back to the barn in the woods, to her fierce Avvar warrior.

“Go back?” The man spoke, incredulity lacing his voice. “Why in the name of Andraste’s flaming knickers would you want to go back? We’ve only just rescued you.”

“I didn’t need rescuing,” she snapped. “I was perfectly happy there.”

Well, she _had_ been perfectly happy until everything went to hell and Skinchanger kicked them out of the village, but she didn’t need to tell her captors those details.

As it was, her remark was met with stunned silence, the man and the woman exchanging confused expressions over Elena’s head. After a moment, the woman sat delicately on the edge of the bed, her face a mask of concern as she gently patted Elena’s hand.

“ _Perfectly happy_?” She repeated, the paused, marshaling her thoughts. “Lady Elena, we were led to believe that you had been attacked and kidnapped. That you were being held against your will by a clan of Avvar barbarians.”

Elena shook her head, “That’s not...I mean, _yes_ , my carriage was attacked and I was carried off, but I’m fine with the Avvar, happy. Cullen loves me--”

“Cullen?” The woman interjected, meeting her companions eyes over the top of Elena’s head before flicking her gaze back to the woman before her. “Blast and damnation this is worse than I thought. Listen, honey, we’re taking you home, and you can put this ordeal behind you. After you’ve had some time, I’m sure you’ll see that this is for the best. You don’t belong there, you belong with your family.”

The words felt like a slap to the face. _You don’t belong there_. It was what everyone was saying--Skinchanger, Mia, Branson. She was sure even Cullen and Rose had at least thought the same. But she didn’t care what anyone thought. She belonged with her husband. 

Elena wanted to protest, but the way the woman was looking at her--sympathetic and not a little worried--convinced her that her protests would only fall on deaf ears. The woman patted her hand again, before standing and taking her leave. The man fussed over her for a few more minutes before leaving as well, though not without promising to send in a bowl of broth and some more water.

As the door closed behind the man, Elena sighed and glanced around the room. It was a small cabin, with a bed built into the wall. There was a battered chair pressed against the opposite wall, where the man--Anders?--had been sitting. A lantern swung from the ceiling. There was nothing else in the room, not even a window. Elena drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself. What a mess. A month ago, she would have wanted nothing less than to be taken to her grandmother’s estates, now...now all she wanted to do was find her way back to Cullen. Well, if her rescuers wouldn’t help her get back to him, she would just have to do it herself.

She shook her head, if she’d learned anything from her time with Cullen and his family, sitting around and feeling sorry for herself would not solve her problems. She needed to find a way off this boat and back to the cabin. That objective in mind, Elena swung her legs off the side of the bed and very gingerly stood up. At the movement, her knees wobbled and the world spun again, her stomach cramping violently. Elena reached out, bracing herself on the far wall until her head stopped throbbing and her world settled.

She had just managed her first tentative step towards the door, when it swung open, revealing the blond dwarf with an alarming amount of chest hair on display; he was carrying the afore promised bowl of broth. Taking in her position away from the bed, he raised an eyebrow.

“Thinking of swimming away on us, are you?”

“What? No...I was just--” she stuttered.

His face broke into a wide grin. “Listen Sweets, Hawke told me about your reaction to where we’re taking you. You might as well sit back down. You’ve been out for the better part of a day and are probably weak as a newly hatched drakeling. Not to mention we’re about fifty miles from, well, anywhere.”

_Fifty miles from anywhere?_ Elena thought, panic spiking sharp in her chest. Did that mean fifty miles away from where they had captured her? Or simply from what anyone else would consider civilization? He had said she’d been out for the better part of a day; surely they couldn’t cover fifty miles in such a short amount of time. Either way, though, she had better play along. There was no need to rouse any more of their suspicion that she wasn’t happy about their destination.

With a huff, Elena sat back down and accepted the bowl. “Would you mind telling me what in the name of the Void is going on here?”

The dwarf motioned for her to eat, and she realized he wasn’t going to answer her question until she did so. Her stomach cramped again, and Elena realized that it had probably been a day or more since she’d eaten; she _was_ hungry. Bringing the bowl to her lips, she drank down the hot broth, letting its warmth spread through her. Half of it gone in one gulp, she set the bowl back in her lap and looked at the dwarf expectantly. He nodded in approval.

“It’s simple really, your fancy pants father paid Hawke--you’ve met her, the woman who spoke with you earlier--and her crew--that’s us--to find you and bring you home. He’d apparently sent others into the Frostbacks after you never turned up on Ostwick, but they haven’t had much luck. Hence hiring Hawke and Isabela. I’m Varric, by the way.”

Elena sipped at the rest of her broth, mulling over his words. She should have known her father wouldn’t let her simply disappear into the wilderness of Ferelden, but she hadn’t counted on him trying quite so hard to find her. Her grandmother must be behind this rescue effort--she had always seemed to take an interest in her granddaughter. Elena wondered what made Hawke and her crew such a sure bet that her father would hire them when all other options failed.

“Is Hawke very good at finding people?”

Varric shrugged. “Hawke’s talent is mostly her stubbornness. But you won’t find a group of people more dedicated to a task once it’s been set this side of Tevinter.”

Well that wasn’t good news. Hawke wouldn’t be persuaded to bring her back out of the goodness of her heart, then. But perhaps something more tangible would change her mind.

“What if I don’t want to go back? I could pay you! I have all my jewels...well, my husband has all my jewels.”

Varric’s eyebrows rose so high they melted into his hairline. “Husband? Sweets, I’m not sure I want to know. As for paying, sorry, but Hawke never breaks her word or goes back on a client. We’re honor bound to deliver you to Emprise du Lion, so you’d better get comfortable.”

Elena frowned. She wouldn’t be able to match her father’s coffers anyway, especially not with Grandmother stepping in. She leaned back against her pillows.

“I suppose you’re right.”

~*~

Elena sighed, taking a deep breath of cold air into her lungs. She’d recovered quickly in the three days she’d been on the ship, and slowly been allowed more and more freedom--even occasionally being allowed out on deck. Needless to say, she took advantage of the leniency whenever she could; anything to help her get off this ship and back to Cullen.

Fenris stood a few feet away, glowering in her general direction, his arms crossed over his chest, the moonlight playing off of his white hair and tattoos. The river was quiet, save for the occasional rock or tree trunk that bumped up against the hull, causing the ship to list off to the side once in awhile, although Isabela seemed quite able to keep them on course.

Despite Varric’s advice to simply accept her fate and settle in, Elena used her time on the ship to learn all she could about her captors--or rescuers, depending on how one looked at it--and where they were going. She learned all their names--Hawke, the kind dark haired woman who seemed to be the leader, Anders, the blond healer, Fenris, the taciturn tattooed elf, Isabela, the captain of their ship, Varric the talkative dwarf, and Merrill, the kindhearted Dalish mage. They seemed to rotate guard duty; some, like Isabela, Merrill, and Varric, were quite talkative and friendly, while the others treated her with a distant sort of respect, although Elena felt as if all of them were watching her as if waiting for her to go completely mad. There was a wariness to their gazes, and often, she caught them watching her out of the corner of their eyes, as if not trusting her out of their sight, even for a moment.

She also learned that their ship was making it’s way up one of the many rivers that stretched through the Frostback Basin, up towards Redcliff where they would then make way to Emprise du Lion.

She rested her elbow on the wooden siding, cradling her head in her hand. She had overheard Isabela telling Hawke that they were only two days from Redcliff, weather permitting. Elena knew her window of opportunity to escape was closing quickly.

_Cullen, where are you?_

She had hadn’t tried to escape yet, but she would need to soon. If she was to have any chance of finding Cullen again, or him finding her, she would have to make her move before reaching Redcliff. She’d never heard of the Avvar coming that far out of the mountains, and certainly there would be no way for her to leave with him without drawing significant attention to themselves.

The ship lurched again, running up against a particularly large bolder, and Elena stumbled to the side before righting herself. In a flash, Fenris was at her side. 

“Alright Lady Trevelyan, it’s time to go back to your room,” Fenris said gruffly, before taking her arm and leading her back to her chambers.

He thrust her inside, and closed the door behind her without coming in. Sometimes Merrill would chat with her well into the night, but Fenris was, out of everyone on the ship, the biggest stickler for the rules, and the least likely to have a spare word for her. Leaning her head back against the door, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

If she was going to escape, it had to be tonight. She’d wait two hours, when the next person on watch would come in and check on her, before making a break for the edge of the ship. She was sure she could swim to shore, and from their backtrack to the barn. If she was lucky, she would either run into Cullen along the way, or at least part of his family would still be waiting there.

And if they weren’t...No, she wouldn’t even consider it. Because if she  couldn’t find Cullen or his family, she would be alone in the wilderness without any means of survival.

“Oh, Cullen…what a mess I’ve gotten us into,” she whispered, a single tear trailing down her cheek--the first she’d allowed herself since being captured.

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m here to get us out of it, mitt hjarta,” a deep voice whispered near her ear, as a gentle finger brushed the tear from her cheek.

Elena’s eyes flew open, her mouth hanging in a little ‘o’ of surprise.

“Cullen!” she gasped, throwing her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck, inhaling deeply. “Oh, Maker, I knew you’d find me.”

Cullen wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her close, the fingers of one hand tangling her hair. “Shh, I’m here lass. I’m here to take you back.”

The familiar scent of him coupled with the heat from his body enveloped her, and an involuntary sob of relief tore from her throat. “I was so afraid I’d never see you again, that you’d think I had left you.”

Cullen pulled back, cupping her face and brushing his thumb along her cheek. “Not even death would keep me from you, little wife. I gave you my words, and I mean to keep them.”

His mouth crashed down against her own, his big body curling into her, pulling her close. Elena melted into him, the first touch of his lips was enough to wash all her worries away. She was back in his arms; nothing could come between them. He tipped her head back,  angling her mouth to deepen their kiss, his tongue stroking over her own. At the contact, desire shivered down every nerve in her body, making her toes curl and her sex dampen with anticipation.

“I ken how much you need me, lass,” Cullen murmured against her lips. “How your body weeps for me to fill you.”

She whimpered, her fingers curling into his leather vest, begging him to embrace her again. He rested his forehead against hers with a soft sigh, and caressed her face.

“But we need to be getting out of here, before your captors realize that it wasn’t just rocks thumping against the ship.”

Ah, so that was how he had scaled the ship without drawing attention to himself. He’d waited until they were in a part of the river strewn with boulders, and used the noise to camouflage his own movements. _Clever_. 

Elena nodded, “I was going to jump overboard and swim to shore tonight. A new guard will check on me in a few hours...I was going to go after.”

At her words, his gaze softened. Cullen bent his head, feathering his lips over her forehead, her eyelids, before brushing over her lips, and tracing back up to her temple.

“My brave girl,” he murmured into her hair. “I don’t like waiting so long, though. We’ll make our move now.”

Stepping away, he linked their hands together and very slowly eased the door open. Hawke and her companions had settled into their nighttime routines--only Fenris would be patrolling the hallways and decks, while Isabela would be steering. Everyone else would be sleeping or otherwise below deck in their rooms. As long as they moved silently, and avoided being spotted by either Fenris or Isabela, Elena thought they might have a good chance of getting off the ship unnoticed.

They moved silently through the cabin space, wary of creaking floorboards and doors cracked open. Cullen had a good idea of where they were going--obviously from sneaking down to her room before without getting caught--but Elena occasionally had to point out the right direction with a tap to his arm or a tug on his hand.

As they crept forward, Elena tried to calm her racing heartbeat; if they were caught, she didn’t even want to think about what the merry band of adventurers would do to them, to _him_.

Finally, they reached the wooden stairs that led to the rear deck. From there, it would be easy enough to escape. Cullen leaned forward, checking to see that no one hovered above them. With a nod, they began to climb.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared at the top of the stairs, glowing in the dark. _Fenris_. Cullen quickly stepped back, pressing Elena against the wooden wall behind them, shielding her with his body. There was a chance the elf hadn’t seen them given the steep angle of the stairs and the darkness below. Elena slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling the gasp his sudden appearance elicited. Fenris paused at the top of the stairs, his head cocked to the side as if listening. The moment stretching into eternity, then, just as quickly as he appeared, he moved away.

Elena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Cullen glanced back at her, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before starting up the stairs again. They climbed slowly, wary of another surprise appearance. But before long, Elena could feel the crisp night air on her face as they topped the stairs.

The hard part was over; now it was a simple matter of climbing over the side of the ship and making their way down river. She would be back where she belonged in no time. A smile danced over her lips as she thought of the welcome that awaited her in Cullen’s arms. She had seen the hunger in his eyes, felt the desire in his body as it curled around her own. Her fierce warrior would make love to her soon, fill her body and warm her bones. Anticipation coiled hot in her stomach, just as a sweet ache began between her thighs. She squeezed his hand, eager to move forward.

Yet just as they stepped out onto the deck, a blade arced through the night, whispering to a stop against Cullen’s throat.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Fenris growled. 

**\---**

**Comments? Questions? Constructive Criticism? Please Comment!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I didn’t include Avaline because I thought she’d probably stay back in Kirkwall (since she has a real job lol). She’s probably happy for some Maker damned peace and quiet. 


	14. Chapter 14

Cullen stilled, his hand that reached slowly for an ax strapped to his belt, hovering in midair. Elena’s breath caught in her throat, they were so close--for the moment it was just Fenris blocking their escape but he could raise the alarm at any second with a shout.

Fenris pressed his blade deeper into Cullen’s neck, a bead of blood appearing at the tip, running down the column of his throat.

“Do not even think on it,” Fenris growled. “You reach for that ax, and the woman finds herself in the middle of our fight.”

The threat hung in the crisp night air. Elena peered around Cullen’s broad shoulders to catch a glimpse of Fenris’ determined expression. He didn’t look at her, but she had the feeling that he saw her movement all the same.

Menace rolled off Cullen in waves, and Elena saw his eyes narrow--if Fenris wanted to deescalate the situation, threatening Cullen’s woman was not they way to press forward.

“Stand aside, elf. This woman is mine, and I mean to take her back.”

Despite his threat, Elena didn’t know what he could do against Fenris; they stood at the top of the stairwell, boxed in and without any recourse but to move forward, or back into the belly of the ship. One wrong move, and the entire crew of mercenaries would be upon them.

The ship lurched suddenly, running against another boulder or fallen tree once again, and Fenris stumbled for the briefest of moments. It was all the opportunity Cullen needed. Quick as lightning, he shoved the elf forward and hefted his ax.

“Elena, go! Over the side of the ship. My horse is waiting on the left bank,” Cullen barked, his voice still low for fear of drawing attention from the other residents of the ship before Elena had a chance to escape.

Elena scrambled forward, hugging close to the cabin walls behind her. She could hear the muffled grunts of Cullen and his opponent, and the clang of metal on metal. It was only a matter of moments before someone came to investigate the unmistakable sounds of battle. She reached the far side of the boat, hands gripping the edge tightly as she peered out into the darkness, desperate to find sight of Cullen’s steed.  _ There! _ A flash of golden mane in the gloom. She swung her leg over the side, ready to jump into the no doubt frigid water. For a split second, the image of skeletal branches reaching out to her from the depths flashed through her mind, ready to drag her down into the icy depths. She shook her head, trying to clear the image from her mind and banish the sudden surge of fear that threatened to suffocate her before she even entered the river. Taking a deep breath, Elena looked back at her lover for the courage she needed.

Turning, she watched, entranced as Cullen fought. One ax in each hand, he easily deflected Fenris’s sword, his muscles rippling with grace. Fenris swung his mighty blade. Cullen raised both axes, blocking the sword at the tip and near the hilt, nearly taking Fenris’ fingers. Sparks flew and both men grunted with the effort of overpowering their opponent. Cullen pushed forward, knocking Fenris’ blade off balance. The elf righted himself quickly, bringing the sword down on Cullen in a swift arc only to be block by an ax swing.

Cullen would surely best his opponent; her warrior was without equal. Elena turned back to the river, and swung her leg over the side of the ship.

A high whistle sailed through the darkness, and Cullen cried out, a heavy  _ thud _ sounding as he went down to one knee. Elena snapped back to the fight behind her, confused as to what just happened, her eyes searching in the near darkness for a hint at what could have felled her warrior. Then she saw it; a small, slim dagger sticking out of his left calf.

Still, he fought on. Axes raised against Fenris’ jabs and swings, even swiping at his opponent’s legs, making the elf dance out of reach. Elena remained, frozen, unsure what to do. Should she go to him? Or do as he said and get off the ship.

Fenris swung again, and Cullen blocked it. Exertion coiled in his legs, muscle taut and ready to spring. With a mighty roar and burst of strength, he shot up, attacking the elf and putting him on defense with a flurry of blows.

Then, out of the darkness, Isabela appeared, fisting a handful of golden curls, she held her blade to Cullen’s neck.

“No!” Elena cried.

She was halfway across the deck before she’d realized she had made the decision to move. With a  _ omph _ , she slammed into Isabela, knocking the woman over. The blade went skittering into the night. They tumbled forward, a tangle of limbs and skirts, until they came to a skittering stop on the other side of the deck. Elena was on top of Isabela, disoriented from their tumble. With a grunt, Isabela rolled them, pinning Elena beneath her.

“Kitten,” the other woman snapped, sounding winded. “I realize you’re new to the rescue thing, but  _ I’m _ not the one to attack. Now stay here and be a good girl while ‘Ris and I save you.”

The woman made to scramble up, hand already reaching for yet another knife, but Elena caught hold her shirt. She had to do something--she couldn’t let them hurt Cullen more, not when he was only trying to protect her.

Not when he was only here because of her.

“ _ Please _ . Isabela, don’t hurt him.”

The other woman stared at her for a moment before the hard look in her eyes softened at Elena’s plea.

“Oh, hell.”

With a grunt, Isabela pushed away from Elena and stalked over to where the men were fighting once more. Elena rolled to her side just in time to see Isabela step boldly between the two of them, one hand extended towards Fenris, the other holding a dagger to Cullen’s throat. The men immediately stopped.

“Alright boys, play nice. Fenris, go get Hawke.”

Fenris growled at the command. “Surely you don’t mean to spare this wretch’s life!”

“Fenris, get Hawke. Now.” Isabela repeated, not taking her eyes off of the Avvar warrior before her.

With a mumbled curse, the elf stalked away, throwing a baleful glare Elena’s way as he went. Elena stumbled to her feet, and cautiously walked closer. She could see Cullen’s leg was trembling with the effort of staying upright as blood pooled around his feet, his jaw clenched tight against the pain. Before she could suggest allowing him to sit--or better yet, allowing her to tend to his wounds--Hawke arrived above deck with nearly everyone else on the ship in tow.

“Andraste on a pyre! What in the name of the Maker is going on here?” Hawke snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Our dear Lady Trevelyan was trying to escape back to this fine specimen of a male,” Isabela drawled, twirling the tip of her dagger against the dip in Cullen’s chin. “It seems she wasn’t exaggerating her devotion to her captor.”

“He’s not my captor, he’s my husband!” Elena snapped.

Her words were met with a strained silence as everyone on deck turned to look at her.

Hawke glanced back at Anders and Fenris, clearly trying to gauge her companions’ opinions on how to deal with their new shipmate. Elena could read the fury on the elf warrior’s face--he wanted Cullen dead. Anders looked more hesitant, his face cautiously blank. Elena squared her shoulders; she wouldn’t let them kill her husband. Before she could so much as inform Hawke and her companions of the futility of that particular line of action, Merrill pushed herself to the forefront.

“Hawke, perhaps we’d better see to that wound,” Merrill spoke, her large eyes indicating Cullen’s bloody calf.

Hawke sighed, the tension broken for the moment. “I suppose we can’t have him dying on us. Not until we know everything, at least. And I’m sure Lord Trevelyan will be happy to see the barbarian who kidnapped his daughter. Anders, Isabela, take our new friend below and patch him up. Fenris and Varric, go see if there are any more of his kind lurking nearby. Merrill, secure Lady Trevelyan.”

Everyone moved to do Hawke’s bidding. Anders quickly gagged Cullen and bound his hands behind his back while Isabela kept her blade to his neck. Merrill approached Elena.

“Sorry about this Miss Trevelyan, but Hawke said…”

“It’s alright, Merrill,” Elena reassured her.

She was marched back down the stairway into the private quarters of the ship behind Isabela, Anders, and Cullen. Hawke moved silently behind her and Merrill. Cullen went without a fight as the others steered him into the hull--and Elena wasn’t sure if it was out of shame or simply his mind working hard to find a way out of their predicament, for surely she knew her warrior did not consider this a defeat. When they came to Elena’s room, Merrill made to go in while the others continued on.

“Wait! I want to go with him. Take me with you!” She said, panic edging her voice; she would not be separated from him, not now.

Hawke let out a put upon sigh and glanced at Merrill before turning back to Elena. “I’ll come get you when we’re done. For now, stay here.”

Elena wanted to argue, but Merrill ushered her into the room as the others disappeared around the hallway corner. With a huff of defeat, she slumped onto her bed, while Merrill took up a post at the door.

Time seemed to crawl. Every second an eternity. More than once Elena contemplated asking Merrill to check on what was going on in Hawke’s quarters, but she new the elf wouldn’t leave her unguarded. As the minutes ticked by, Elena strained to hear something,  _ anything _ , some clue as to what was happening to Cullen.

After what felt like hours, but in all likelihood was only one hour at most, there was a knock at her chamber door. A moment later, Hawke pushed into the room and sat on an upturned box across from where Elena was perched on her bed.

“He’s fine. Ander’s patched him up. I have him resting in my chambers tonight. After that, I’ll have him moved to the hold.”

Hope bloomed in her chest, spreading up through her body. Cullen was alright; Hawke hadn’t hurt him further.

“Might I see him?”

Hawke frowned. “I don’t think that would be wise. When we deliver you to your father, we’ll see what Bann Trevelyan wants done with him. Until then, the avvar is a captive.”

Elena’s heart sank at Hawke’s words. Despite everything, she was still being taken back to Orlais.

“Please Hawke, is there nothing I can do to convince you to not take me to my father? I beg you. Truly, I am happy with the Avvar, and I do not wish to go back to Orlais or Ostwick.”

Hawke’s frowned deepened, although it hardly seemed possible. “Lady Elena, we’ve been over this before. I do not go back on my word.”

Elena bit her lip, her mind racing for  _ something  _ to sway the other woman from her course. Previously, she had tried appealing to the mercenary woman’s better nature, arguing that she was happy where she was. But is seemed a different tactic was needed.

“A reprieve then--a profitable one, I swear on the Maker and his Bride!”

Hawke looked like she wanted argue, but at the mention of profit, her frown slid into a neutral expression. “I confess, you’ve captured my interest. You have one minute to make your case.”

“Cullen is the rightful Thane of his Hold. His birthright was usurped by an evil man. Help us reclaim clan Red Lion, with you and your company at our side, he’s sure to win. I can pay you--I have all my jewels. And my clothes and books are back at the hold. It is a fortune in silks and vellum. Please. After we have won my husband’s birthright, then you may take me to my father. I’ll go willingly!”

If everything worked out--and Elena knew that was a big if--she might just be able to salvage the situation. Surely her father would be more favorable to allowing her to stay with a husband who was a warlord, rather than a simple soldier.

Hawke’s eyes narrowed as she mulled over Elena’s words. “Your offer is  _ interesting _ I must admit. And certainly promises more of a challenge that your father’s offer. I will have to think on it and confer with my men.”

“Thank you, Lady Hawke!” Elena exclaimed, clasping the other woman’s hand between her own and kissing it. “You will not regret this.”

“I have not yet said I agree to your proposals, Lady Trevelyan,” Hawke cautioned, gently pulling her hand out of Elena’s grasp. She looked up, around the room. “I suppose since your warrior cannot  even contemplate escape until Ander’s poultice has taken effect, you may stay with him tonight.” Hawke fixed her with a shrewd gaze. “But there will be no more trouble.”

Elena nodded, willing to be on her best behavior if it meant they would agree to her plan. With a sigh, Hawke left, motioning her and Merrill out of the room. Though Elena had no illusions that there wouldn’t be a guard at the door, she couldn’t help the small smile that teased at her lips as Hawke led her down the narrow corridor to the larger bedchamber.

Merrill opened the door, and Elena stepped in. Cullen lay on the large bed that had been build into the wall, the blanket pulled up to his waist. His hands were still bound, but he looked more irritated and angry than in pain. The moment his eyes met her’s though, his expression softened, and he reached for her with both bound hands. Elena went to him, cradling his hand as he cupped her face. Behind them, the door closed with a soft  _ snick _ .

The moment they were alone, Elena began untying the bindings. With a groan, he shifted over in the bed, making room for her, his breath heavy as he shifted his leg.

Elena cupped his face, “oh Cullen. I am so sorry I’ve gotten you into this mess. And now you’re injured.”

He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “I knew you’d be trouble the moment I laid eyes on you. A redheaded woman is a woman touched by fire, and fire is never boring. Now, come up on the bed with me.”

His words made her heart pound, both with joy that he was here,  _ for her _ , and with anticipation. A few days was too long a time to go without being in his arms. With a smile, Elena crawled onto the mattress next to him. She settled down, her fingers going to his hair, stroking the silken strands. They lay together for a long moment, enjoying the silken feeling of skin against skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I feel as if I’ll die if I’m not touching every inch of you,” she whispered, tentatively nestling against him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, hauling her tight to his side. “Lass, you’re mad if you think I’m going to let a little nick in my leg stop me from having you.”

As he spoke, Cullen nuzzled her ear, pressing kisses against her temple and cheek. Elena sighed and the heat of his body and the warmth of his breath settled over her. Maker how she had ached for him.

Her fingers glided over his chest, across the tight muscles of his stomach, until she could slip them under the blanket to find his bare flesh. She grasp his length--already growing hard for her--in her hand.

“It was hardly a  _nick_ , Cullen. You had a dagger sticking out of your leg.”

He groaned as her hand moved up and down his shaft, squeezing him. “Exactly. Which is why I need you to ride me tonight. Mount me, lass. I need to feel that sweet, velvet heat wrapped around my cock.”

Elena moaned at his seductive words, her nipples tightening to hard buds in anticipation, slickness building between her thighs. “All in good time, my love.”

She stroked him, squeezing his shaft with every down slide of her hand. Beside her, Cullen’s breath came out in hard pants, his lips brushing and tickling at her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Turning her head, she captured his lips, kissing him back, the taste of him flooding her senses.

“Take you clothes off, woman,” Cullen growled, his hips bucking into her hand as her thumb brushed over the head of his cock.

Elena stood up quickly, her fingers flying over the laces of her gown until she could shimmy out of it. The fabric fell to the floor in a whisper. Bringing her hands up to the stings of her shift, she paused, slowing her movements as she unlaced the bow hanging between her breasts, until the collar gaped open. With measured slowness, she slipped the fabric from one shoulder, letting the edge dip past her collarbone, to caress the swell of her breast. Cullen groan at the sight before reaching down and fisting his cock as he watched her with hungry eyes.

The anticipation build hot and insistent between her legs. The look he was giving her communicating all the wicked things her lover wanted to do with her body.

Elena tossed him a smile, before allowing the other side of her shift to slip down. She turned her back to him, facing the small brazier of coals, its red glow casting her body in silhouette. She let her shift fall to the floor in a rustle of linen. Turning her head, Elena peered over her shoulder at Cullen as he stroked himself with a slow, firm rhythm.

“Get over here,” he growled. “Now.”

She walked slowly towards him, her hips rolling with each step. Keeping her yes locked on his, she cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, rolling them. She placed one knee on the bed and and made to straddle him. With swift movements Cullen grasped her hips, pulling her forward, until she straddled his chest.

“I need to taste you,” he rasped, tugging her towards his mouth.

Before she could say anything, her knees were around his head, his hands kneading her bottom and his face buried deep between her legs. She let out a low, long moan as his tongue lapped at her heat. Deep thrust of his tongue, a hard suck on her clit, a broad lick of his tongue, stroking, hot, velvet. Thrust, suck, lick. The pleasure was nearly blinding; unrelenting fire sweeping through her body from where his mouth worked her slick entrance, spiraling through her nerves.

Elena arched her back, her hips rocking against his face as pleasure coursed through her, exploding upward, down her arms, making every inch of her tingle. Cullen groaned as her wetness flooded his mouth. He gripped her ass hard, spreading her cheeks and pulling her closer.

“Fuck,  _ Cullen _ ,” Elena gasped, reaching down to thread her fingers through his hair.

He grinned, the rough stubble of his beard creating a delicious burn against her thighs. “That’s it lass, let me love you.”

Releasing her hip with one hand, he pressed a finger deep into her slick sheath as his lips wrapped around her clit. Elena sighed as another shock of pleasure swept through her. Another finger, joined by his tongue. Her hips rolling against his face. Fire burned deep in her belly as he licked and suckled at her aching center, building higher and tighter, her muscles clenching.

His mouth moved, his voice a low rumble as he began to chant one of his Hold’s songs against her body. She couldn’t understand him, not with his tongue and lips working her but the passion and desire in his voice rolled over her, heightening her aching need, sending her body into a fever pitch. Her nipples were ached with tightness, her body was strung, taut and ready to snap. Elena lifted her hands from the wall before her and cupped her breasts, squeezing and rolling the heavy, aching, flesh. Cullen’s mouth traveled up her slit, his tongue stroking along. When he reached her sweet pearl, he wrapped his lips around it. Sucking hard, he thrust his fingers into her body, and she shattered.

Pleasure bloomed through her body, igniting along every bone and tendon and nerve. Her back arched, head thrown back, she gripped his face against her cunt, moans rolling off of her tongue embedded with curses, prayers, and his name, always his name. It was her new Chant of Light, their shared caresses her new temple.

Her body relaxed, and she slid next to him, boneless and replete. Cullen turned to his side and cupped her face. Without a word he gripped her by the back of the neck and kissed her, hard and deep. She melted into him, her body pressed against his as his tongue stroked deep into her mouth.

“My cock aches something fierce, lass. I need that wet sheath wrapped around me,” he whispered, tracing his lips along her jaw, fluttering down her throat. “Milking me, until my seed is planted in your belly.”

Elena shivered, her body coming alive anew at his words and the picture he painted. She pushed the blanket down, and threw her leg over his hips, straddling him. Grasping his shaft she lowered herself, pressing the swollen head of his cock to her slick folds.

“You want to be inside of me?” She purred.

Teasing him, she pressed just the plump crown into her entrance, her body clenching at the intrusion, before he withdrew him. Press in, clench, withdrawal. With each burst of heat around his sensitive cock head, Cullen’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

“Fuck, woman,” her warrior snarled, his hands flying to her hips. “Now.”

With a grunt, Cullen slammed her down on his cock, bucking his hips upwards. Elena cried out, her body stretching around his girth, accommodating to his length. Her nails curled into his chest, her fingers tunneling through the thick, golden hair. She rocked against him, the hot slide of his cock through her aching channel sending heat spreading through her body. Biting her lip, she fucked him harder, taking out all her anxiety and fear from the last week on his body.

“By the Mountain Father, you’re so beautiful like that, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, as your perfect breasts bouncing in my face,” Cullen gasped, before bringing his palm down hard on her ass.

Elena cried out, her shout of surprise quickly turning to a moan of pleasure. “Do it again!”

The crack of flesh against flesh rang out as he brought his hand down again. With a grunt, he reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair. Tugging fierce, he tilted her head back as he sat up in one smooth motion, seating his cock even deeper into her aching, wet sheath. He pressed hot, open mouth kisses against her throat, teeth nipping at her delicate skin. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he pulled her tight against him, his hips slamming into hers.

“I was so worried for you,” he panted. “That someone had hurt you. That you were frightened and alone.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders, clutching him tight to her body as each thrust of his hips brought her closer to another earth shattering release.

“I knew you’d come for me,” she half whispered, half sobbed as she ground down hard on him, squeezing his cock with all she had.

Cullen reached between them, his calloused thumb finding her aching pearl.

“Always.”

He rubbed her, sparking the fire of her need. Her body began to shudder, a flush crawling up her the skin of her chest and neck. With a gasp, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, a scream buried against his skin. Cullen groaned, his hips slamming into her as her body throbbed and shuddered around him, pulling him in deep, and refusing to let go. With a final, powerful thrust, he came, his hot seed flooding her body.

He held her close, their chests rising and falling as they came down from their high. He stroked the back of her head and pressed a kiss against her temple.

“I missed having your in my arms,  mitt hjarta.”

She shuddered, trying not to sob and the exquisite feelings of relief and love coursed through her.

  
“I’ll never leave you again, Cullen. I swear on my life.”


End file.
